


In Your Shadow

by BlueCaty



Category: Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gang Violence, Grief, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss, Revenge, Romance, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 44,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24969757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueCaty/pseuds/BlueCaty
Summary: Poppy could not have imagined that moving to the city would turn her life upside down. Meeting Tora was the best thing that happened to her. But along with it came trouble, heartbreak, and tough choices. How far would you go for the one you love?
Relationships: Tora/Poppy
Comments: 249
Kudos: 177





	1. The Resolve

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction related to the awesome webcomic Midnight Poppy Land by Lilydusk. Check it out on Webtoon. You can support Lilydusk and find her amazing art also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk. I highly recommend it, she has some wonderful goodies there and the insights into each episode are addictive. 
> 
> I obviously do not own any of the characters depicted in this story, they are property of the talented Lilydusk. 
> 
> Many thanks to my beta readers[ Larosamorada85](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larosamorada85/pseuds/larosamorada85), [ SchwarzeKlatschMohn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SchwarzeKlatschMohn/pseuds/SchwarzeKlatschMohn), and[ saucytuggles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saucytuggles/pseuds/saucytuggles). You ladies are amazingly supportive and I appreciate you very much.

**Chapter 1: The Resolve**

It rained yesterday. The air was still damp and slightly cold, but Poppy did not mind. She loved the rain, she loved the smell of fresh grass and wet soil, the smell of woods brought by the little droplets of water onto her cheeks...the smell of home. She missed her childhood home so much- the quiet moments she spent wrapped in blankets at the window, tracing the water drops with her fingers, waiting for the thunder to crash. Her father would make her comfort food and they would sit together listening to the storm outside. Every now and again the smell of rain would send her back to those happier times when she felt truly loved. Yet today, that happiness seemed so distant as if it was happening in another life. 

She walked with silent purpose, a bouquet of wildflowers in her hand. She had them picked out from the field near Moonbright: a colorful array of daisies, poppies, bellflowers, and forget-me-nots.

Her car was parked on the side of the road, blue as the flowers she carried. _Who would have thought_ , she mused, _that I would be someday driving this thing?_ Tora had taught her how to drive, fighting her stubbornness in the matter. She remembered it fondly, her thoughts drifting back to that day...

“I want you to drive to work. For your safety, kid. I don’t wanna think of ya alone on a long commute, on a bus full of people.”

“What does that have to do with anything? People are fine, I like people... my safety has been on your mind a lot lately, hasn't it?” she teased, not without a small shred of worry.

He brushed her off, “It’s a good skill to have. People are jerks, taking photos of you and shit,” he countered, a playful smile flickering for a second in his amber eyes. “You can have my car until you save enough for your own. No strings attached. I’d rather sleep at night.”

“Your car? Absolutely not! And besides... I- I don’t know how to drive,” she said, averting her eyes. “I mean I only drove my scooter and that did not end well as you may remember ... and ...” Poppy was struggling to find valid reasons. Her mind was racing, shooting warning signs everywhere. _Losing sleep over my safety? Why should I be in any danger at all? Just because I know him?_

“I’ll teach ya, ´s no big deal,” he cut off her ramblings and that was the end of it.

She could not say no anymore and as soon as she accepted his offer, she felt a wave of relief washing over- it meant she would have to see him again. The feeling caught her off guard, realizing at that moment she wanted to know him better- to discover who this tall, tattooed, dark-haired man standing in front of her was. She wanted to understand why he kept returning to her after their deal was closed, offering her sweets, but no explanations. He was content just watching her paint.

Tora kept his word to the letter, stopping by her apartment building daily for two months. He took her to the outskirts of the city to practice until she grew confident enough to drive on the wider and more trafficked boulevards of Narin City. The day she got her license, they celebrated at Alice’s with green tea and shrimp noodles, blissfully ignoring the older woman’s glances from behind the fully stocked bar.

 _Back when everything was still easy,_ Poppy thought, clinging to her flowers, going up the steep empty road towards the cliff at the end of the hiking trail. She breathed heavily, tiny dribbles of sweat starting to form on her forehead and neck. She concentrated on her steps, making sure not to fall on the slippery path. Alm _ost there,_ she came to a full stop when she reached the edge of the forest and had the cliff in sight. Her eyes were searching for the massive rock somewhere at her left, partially hidden in the shadows of the evergreen trees behind her. There it was, a stone six feet tall and wide. Its edges were both sharp and smooth where the people touched it repeatedly- leaning against it after an exhausting hike, using it to hang their backpacks, or just simply brushing against it taking pictures.

Poppy circled the stone looking for something and soon enough, she saw the markings she knew by heart. She sighed, hoping to relieve some weight from her chest. But the sorrow she felt these days would not lessen so easily and she found herself drowned in it once more.

“I’m here, love” she whispered, softly touching the cold rock, somehow wishing it to come alive under her hands. She sat on her knees on the damp moss floor, putting the wildflowers in a small crevice. _He too was wild. An animal, they said. A monster. How little they knew of him and how wrong they were…_ She knew because she had been looking in the eyes of the beast, past his walls of silence. There, beneath all his layers of darkness, she had found the fragility of a child, not much unlike those thin petals of red and blue. She had tamed the beast and revealed the man. For that, they both had paid their tribute to fate. 

She fiddled with a long silver chain hidden under the collar of her shirt. Taking it out, the silver ring gleamed in the cold light, dangling from the chain. She fitted the ring on her finger; it was much too big of course. She clenched her fists until she felt the ring bite into her palm, reddening the soft flesh.

“You didn’t think I forgot did you?” she said to no one, feeling the knot in her throat tightening. She was again on the verge of tears, as anger and pain crashed inside her like a storm. “YOU PROMISED!” she yelled, the echo of her words carrying towards the edge of the cliff and into the abyss below. “I came here every day, as you wanted. Every damn day! And it still does not get any easier. Why Tora? Why did you leave me behind?” She was now fully crying, letting the salty streaks of tears soothe her rage, her frustration, and grief.

“You promised you'd come back to me. How will I live now? Why should I want a world without you in it?” she let out between sobs, her body shivering.

Yes, his fragility frightened her then, more than the “monster” he thought he was. She saw herself in his broken soul, as she too was fractured and lost in a world where she never really felt safe. She became the sanctuary he needed the most, his light of hope as he, in the same way, became hers.

They were friends before they became lovers. Her home was their island of peace, the eye of the storm before the shadows and real monsters caught up with them. She got to know him through half-truths, reading between the lines of what little he reluctantly shared with her. She saw through his lies, but so did he through hers, exposing effortlessly her real self to him. Both were masters of facades, shields in front of the ones who hurt and deceive, and in front of the ones who threaten and kill. With each other, however, little by little those shields cracked and fell, as an unknown force drew them together. 

Poppy could not help but wonder what that force was, but she did not have the strength to fight it, nor did she want to. She continued to receive him into her home, offering him kindness and making him smile with her clumsiness, teasing him, and half-joking to break any tension that might have built between them. 

She had made him countless meals, watching him devour everything with the utmost passion while sitting beside her at the low table. She was growing comfortable in knowing a man that treasured her little gifts, feeling that he needed them more than he would care to admit. It seemed that everything about her was new to him, as he somehow stumbled into a strangely beautiful world so different from his own.

The day he came to her house, with his shirt speckled with blood, his fists clenched and an intense look in his eyes was the day she caught a glimpse of the dangerous Tora. The one everybody else was frightened of. She stared at him wide-eyed, her head filled with questions. 

He broke the silence in a hoarse voice "Afraid of me now?”

From all the thoughts buzzing in her mind at the time, the only one that passed her lips was the one he needed to hear "Not in a million years.”

She reached for his hand, feeling the surge of electricity when they touched. Ignoring it, she pulled him closer so that she could lean into his arms, making him hug her, resting her head onto his chest, hearing the drumming of his heart. That hug took Tora by surprise, but he was longing for her touch. He let her see the broken man he was, hoping that she would not turn away from him. "You brave little woman,” he put his arms around her, while she rested her palms on his back, keeping him close. It worked as a balm and soon enough Poppy felt his muscles relax, and the tension leaving his body carrying its deadly weight somewhere else. 

Later on, these hugs however intimate, were their secret language, the one they did not need to speak aloud of. They felt as natural as breathing, while they chased away their worries and fears. 

“You’re pure magic, Bobby,” Tora said to her then, kissing the top of her head, sniffing through her hair. She looked up straight into his eyes and the amount of need she saw there was more than she could endure. His eyes pierced through her like molten lava, wanting, but not daring to take what they both knew was the last step into everything else. 

With one hand resting on his chest, feeling his pulse quicken under her touch, Poppy reached the other hand to caress the cheek of the man that she was healing. She slid it to the back of his neck, through his dark locks, and brought him closer to her, as she kissed him, with the courage she never expected to have. He responded fiercely, parting her lips, and exploring her mouth. He threaded his fingers through her hair pressing her into him as if he was trying to capture her into his body. Tora hungered for her touch, knowing he could not bring himself to leave her.

Yet he did. When the warning came, Tora had arranged for Poppy’s safety and he dove back into the war, to put an end to it once and for all. So Poppy waited what seemed like an eternity. She waited and prayed to all the gods and goddesses she knew to bring him back safe. All was over sooner than expected, but Tora never did come back. An exhausted Gyu knocked on the door of her safe house that morning, announcing that Big Bro was missing and presumed dead in the pile of bodies that surrounded the rubbles of Balthuman manor. The world collapsed around her at that moment and she knew that she would never be whole again.

“Bobby, if the plan fails, I might not make it…” Tora said to her once. She pressed her hands on his lips wishing to stop the terrible words, but he grabbed her wrists and kissed her tiny palms. “No, you need to know. If I ever…go and don’t come back, if I’m forced to hide or run, or I don’t know... Go to the hiking trail near Moonbright. The one we walked together last time, you remember? That takes you to that cliff? The rock I showed you, with the markings… If I survive, I’ll make it there somehow. I’ll come for you or leave a message so you know how to find me. But if I don’t...if days pass and you find nothing, then please, sweetheart, please you’ll have to let me go.”

Poppy stood up, her body aching and feeling a thousand times older than two weeks ago, brushing the dirt and moss from her hands and knees. “The hell am I letting you go, Tiger,” she said to herself, directing her wrath towards unknown enemies. She will find out the truth. She will find him, alive or… not. And they will pay, the ones that took her very life from her. She made her way back to the car as night was falling over the woods, encasing everything in its darkness. She was his light once and now she would set the world on fire for him. Starting with that damn Princess. 


	2. The Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 2: The Deal**

“Why don’t you cut the crap and tell me what I need to know?” Poppy frowned at the young man slouched in a chair at the desk in front of her. In fact, he was about the same size as her, but her deadly stare made her feel taller and empowered like maybe she had the upper hand in this dealing. 

“C’mon, Poppy. It’s only been three days since the explosion, what do you expect?”

Ever since she could remember she felt people were taking advantage of her. Like her friends from university for whom she wrote half the essay assignments. Like Julri whom she tutored for Literature class and who then boasted to his friends when he passed all the exams. He never even gave her a shred of credit or at least a heartfelt “thank you” for losing so many hours on his dumb ass. Like coworkers who put their workload on her, under the presumption that she has nothing better to do on a Friday night. Sure, she helped them all, she never really wanted to deny any of them. But, would it hurt them to acknowledge her efforts once in a while? 

_I guess these were my options growing up as a nerdy short girl. Be friendly and compliant or be prepared to get bullied._

She felt exploited. She felt that she was not taken seriously unless they needed something from her. She was tired of always playing nice in order to protect herself; of accepting faulty compromises. Of being the good girl they expected her to be. Where did that lead her? She landed on the losing side most of the time: working way too much, hiding her weaknesses, always putting up the brave front no matter how exhausting that was. “Everything comes with a price” - she learned that from Tora, and she would use it now, in her own favor for once. This time, her loss would make her stronger. 

“Three days too many," she replied. "Are you able to retrieve the text messages or not?” Poppy stood up towering over Gyu, who looked warily at his laptop and then back at her. 

“It’s not that simple. He kept burning through phones faster than I could manage to purchase them from the black market and clone them. Even if I had the possibility to get those texts, they contain sensitive information, clan dealings, that should not concern you or anyone for that matter. Although its members are scattered now, still I cannot give away such information to an outsider. They would skin me alive.”

“I am more than just an outsider...Ronzo.” Poppy pressed relentlessly. “I know you owe him and never got to pay that debt. How is that guilt treating you?” she leaned over, scanning his face, slightly relieved to see that she had hit the mark. 

Gyu’s eyes widened with shock, looking at her in a newfound light. His expression then crumpled into a defeated one. He ran a hand through his hair, “Please don’t call me that. I hate it so much.” 

Poppy softened and lowered her voice. “Gyu, you know me. You came to my home, you saw how Tora and I were. There was no way back for us.” Her voice trembled a little at the last word. _Would there ever be “us” anymore, love?_ She continued, “You knew he wanted a way out for months, more so after we got together. I know you helped him and he trusted you, so I feel bound to trust you too. I refuse to believe he is dead, Gyu. I will not believe it. I have to find him, but I don’t know what I’m up against. I need intel. Help me and consider your debt paid.”

Gyu pondered her words for a moment. He looked at her, body all tense, her gaze fierce, and in all honesty, he was jealous. He wondered if he could ever find a woman willing to battle all the odds for him. If he would ever disappear into thin air, would there be a Poppy somewhere determined to find him or even to mourn him? She was something alright. No wonder Tora loved her. Although Gyu was not sure if he ever heard Big Bro say the words out loud, it was so obvious. He remembered seeing them from the security booth. After he got the job of that lowlife security guard, Travis-what’s-his-name, Gyu would often observe Tora coming to pick up Poppy in the evenings. They went out for a few hours in the blue car he kept for her, as Gyu found out, later on. 

_I think I’ve never seen Big Bro this happy. Or smiling._ Although he could not hear them clearly, he watched them teasing each other with such ease - she was flaring up at something Big Bro was saying and punched him in the arms or chest, he was fending off her jabs, smiling or downright laughing. The sight of Big Bro laughing felt so foreign to Gyu, that sometimes he questioned his own eyesight. He watched as Tora seemed to always gravitate towards Poppy, whispering something in her ear, touching the small of her back, leading her into the building. As weeks passed by he watched them getting closer, holding hands, lost in their own bubble so much that he felt uneasy, like spying on an intimate affair he had no business knowing of. 

When Poppy invited him to have lunch with them on that Saturday, Gyu found it hard to deny her request. The curvy little woman intrigued him. He entertained the curiosity to see what kind of person she was, and how come Big Bro looked much less of a tiger and more like a domesticated cat whenever he was near her. He found out that not only was she a cutie, but she was also easy to be around, she was open and had a funny sense of humor, she was opinionated and sometimes blunt, calling Tora on his bullshit as if she could see right through him. 

Compared to his sister’s messy house full of noisy children, Poppy’s apartment was bohemian, quieter, and welcoming. It was like somehow that space full of bright, joyful paintings and green little plants emanated serene energy, that made Gyu feel right away like home. It was very close to the way he imagined home would feel like if he was another man, with another past. 

If that was not enough, he discovered that she made them the most tasteful shoyu ramen soup. _Oh my God, that woman can cook,_ he thought then and as he was eating his chashu in silence, he felt the green monster’s tentacles swirling around in his chest. Envy. Bit of sadness. That he did not find her first. Would she have fallen for him, if he was closer to her, if he was the one protecting her? _Who am I kidding? Just one look at Big Bro and women swarm to him like frickin’ locusts. I wouldn’t have stood a chance._

His place was not there beside Poppy, his place was always at the desk, in the blue light of the screens. There he worked his magic retrieving pieces of puzzles from the darkest corners of the internet and being the secret keeper of the man he owed his life to. Crushing over his woman was not an option. 

That man was gone now. Gyu thought about how much he should confide in Poppy and how the information he had would put himself on the radar again. 

Three days have passed since the explosion of the Balthuman house on the outskirts of the city. The members of the meeting were blown to pieces, bodies were scorched, some of them turned completely to ash, making the identification of the people involved difficult, if not impossible. The media roamed for a day or two. They made it look like a violent attack from the business rivals of the Balthuman empire. Their long-lasting battle over the monopoly of Narin city and its surroundings was not a secret to the press. Vincent Balthuman himself made a short news appearance, condemning the low practices of his opponents and giving a heartfelt statement about so many innocent lives lost. _That piece of shit._ Gyu knew exactly how many lives were lost and how come by a miracle Vincent was still alive. The police, however, did not bother to ask that obvious question, which made Gyu think that Vincent’s money was heavily involved in the matter. 

The smart choice would be to lay low and let the dust settle. It would be wiser to prepare for a quick exit if the coin would land on the wrong side and things got messy. But then there was Poppy. Determined to poke the hornet’s nest and get her answers. Would he live a quiet life on a tropical island across the globe, if he would run away, leaving her to fight her battles alone? Would he be able to live with the guilt of failing Tora once again? 

He knew the answer in his heart and gazing into her big brown eyes, he succumbed to her plea. 

“Fine. I’ll help you. I’ll find the texts and I will tell you everything I know. But leave me out of it, cause I don’t want to have anything more to do with the shitstorm you are about to start.”

“Fine by me,” said Poppy. 

“Poppy,” he took her hand into his own, “are you sure you want to get into this? As far as I know, Big Bro is dead. I know it’s a hard truth to take in, but you would be so much better if you leave things as they are. He wanted you out, true. I can get you, us both, away from Narin, somewhere to heal and forget and start anew. What do you say?”

Poppy pulled her hand away and gave him a hurtful look “If he is dead, then so am I.”

“I guess I got my answer”, said Gyu, falling back in his chair again. _If only. If only I had gotten to you before him._


	3. The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 3: The Dance**

Tora was standing by the door, watching the small group of people having drinks and enjoying the small talk. He was a man of few words; social gatherings like this one were tiresome and pointless to him. More so, when Princess was involved. He could only take so many endless discussions about cars, yachts, exclusive clubs, and shit the rich were always boasting about. This time though, he was glad he suited up and followed Quincey, even if he did not have a choice in the matter. 

A few hours ago, Quincey was pacing back and forth in his living room, trying to convince him. 

“Come on, honey, you’ll love it. I have a really good feeling about this. No more nasty two-faced editors, no more screw-ups.” He waved his hands in the air, dismissing the upsetting memories of his latest publisher. 

“It’s like fate brought this lady on my doorstep the other night, don’t you think? Miss Poppy is one of a kind. She really understands me! And this project she proposed, I’m telling you, it’s pure gold!” he continued, slapping his palms in anticipation.

Tora mumbled something, his attention still directed at his video game, as his fingers pressed rapidly the controller’s buttons. When Poppy’s name came up, he lost focus for a brief moment and his character took a shot. “Fuck”, he breathed, not loud enough for Quincey to hear. 

“Is that a yes? Can you leave your game aside for just a second and enjoy my good news?” Quincey asked, growing impatient.

Tora paused his game and looked up at the blonde man in his pajamas, who was barely able to contain his excitement. 

“Ya want me to go where?”

Quincey sighed. “To the party, Tora. Miss Poppy’s boss is having a gathering tonight at Chevy’s to celebrate the contract signing for my new book. Nothing too big and fancy as he put it, but I intend to have as much fun as I can. Maybe I can steal Miss Poppy to a dance or two. It’s been ages since I enjoyed a spin on the dance floor. And I hear Chevy’s got a brand new dance hall, with live music. You must put on a suit, of course. No more of those awful hoodies, and please wear a tie. The way you dress to these things, it reflects on me as well, you know.”

_ So she finally did it, huh? I knew that woman’s a fighter,  _ Tora thought and went downstairs to his place to get ready. He was not a fan of suits either, but he would please Quincey, as he always did in such situations. And seeing her again would be worth the trouble.

To Quincey’s dismay, Chevy’s dance hall was fully booked for a private event, so they found themselves in a separate lounge, richly decorated nonetheless. The luxury restaurant gained its renown due to excellent food and exquisite design. The room was decadently furnished with velvet chairs, mahogany tables, and dark hardwood floors. Gold inserts formed intricate designs on the walls and a modern string of lights hanging from the ceiling cast a soft glow over each table. Jazz played in the background, setting the mood for light dinner conversation. 

Tora scanned the room- only three other tables were occupied. Just ordinary people; no need for concerns tonight. Waiters were coming and going carrying trays with mouth-watering looking dishes and Tora remembered he had not eaten anything since this morning. 

Their party was small, as Poppy’s boss said. There were only four people from the publishing house, Quincey, and that tiny old man, whom he and Poppy chased through the city.

“Tora, honey, don’t just stand there. Come sit with us, eat something," Quincey chirped, already holding a glass of champagne. “Everybody, this is Tora, my bodyguard... and friend," he continued as Tora approached the table. “Miss Poppy knows him too, she helped us with a rather delicate situation. Right, dear?” 

Poppy smiled as a soft rosy color touched her cheeks. 

“Tora, this is Gil, the owner of Giant Goldfish Publishing. And over there Erdene and Jacob will be part of the project as well. Also, I would like to introduce to you the delightful Mr. Lam, whose brilliant idea we are trying to bring to life as an homage to his late wife. It is a little different than my usual style, but I’m ever so confident we can produce a wonderful book. This is going to be a bestseller!”

As Gil shook hands with Tora he noticed the Balthuman crest on the tall man’s neck. A quick shadow clouded his eyes for a moment and he glanced at Poppy, a questioning look, then moved away. He handed a glass of the bubbly liquid to Mr. Lam and engaged in a deep conversation about the difficulties small companies face on the book market. 

Tora felt uneasy. He hated when Quincey decided to throw him into his social endeavors. He did not miss the glances between Gil and Poppy, nor the bold once-over that that slender woman, Erdene, gave him. He craved a cigarette and wondered how much longer he could tolerate this before he could sneak away for a smoke break. 

Poppy seemed to sense his discomfort because she started questioning Quincey about his published books. That was enough for him to monopolize the discussion, drawing all the attention to himself, as they continued dinner. 

Poppy looked radiant. Her hair was twisted in a low elegant bun and the purple draped midi dress she wore hugged her curves in the most delicious manner. Tora was struggling not to stare at her, although the v-neckline of the dress was tempting him from across the table. 

_ Control yourself, what the hell? What are you, a fucking teenager?  _ He frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose.  _ It’s gonna be a long night. _

Ever since he discovered that she did not have the notebook, he found himself thinking about her more often than not. She should be safe now, having nothing to do with the clans’ rivalry and secrets. But was she really? Being near him, she would always be on the edge of danger. And now she will deal with Quincey as well. It was only a matter of time until the clan brothers would find out about her. He swore to get out of her life once he found the notebook, and yet there he was, searching for reasons to see her again. And again. That was new to him - not being able to keep his word. He watched her from afar, he passed by her apartment building more than once and caught sight of her on the balcony, but that was not enough. He was glad that Gyu landed the security job at her apartment building. 

_ I’m just making sure that whoever chased Goliath doesn’t come after her.  _ Tora leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He turned his eyes away from Poppy, looking through the window, gritting his teeth.  _ Fuck. I’m just lying to myself, ain’t I? How long can I keep this up?  _

As the evening blended into night, empty glasses were filled repeatedly, voices grew louder, and the food vanished from plates. Quincey, still not willing to renounce dancing, took Poppy for a slow dance among the tables, drawing the attention of the other guests. Tora watched as Quincey gracefully spun her around, while she was trying very hard not to step on his feet. Strands of hair slipped from her knotted bun, fluttering around her face. 

_ Why is she so goddamn beautiful?  _

Soon enough the maître d’ tried to persuade them to take back their seats, but Quincey just waved a hand towards him as if he were a nagging fly. When the man pressed on, Quincey stopped, his green eyes shooting a steely arrow through the man’s composed expression. He then addressed Tora, without looking away from the manager, “Tora, this man is under the impression a little dance is perturbing his business. Would you be so kind as to let him know that my skill in this art will likely attract more guests instead of driving them away?” 

Tora rose to his feet. The maître d’ backed away two steps, clearly intimidated by the young man’s tall build, and made a short bow. 

“Quincey, this has been lovely, but we should sit down. These shoes are killing me,“ interrupted Poppy, moving away from him. 

"As you wish, dear,” he said, returning to his charming self with a smile. 

Tora felt the tension around the room dissipate. Poppy returned to the table, passing behind Tora’s back, brushing very lightly against him. As soon as the manager left, he let out an “excuse me” under his breath, and went out of the restaurant. He was in a desperate need to clear his head. 

The night was late and the hum of the city quieted around him, the gleaming lights of the streets and of the nearby buildings the only evidence of people’s existence. A crisp wind rustled the few trees on the sidewalk. The entrance of the restaurant was guarded by marble pillars and benches adorned with flowers. Tora leaned against one of the pillars, lighting himself a cigarette. Looking up, he caught glimpses of distant constellations among the concrete rooftops. The smoke enveloped him in the familiar haze, while his mind cooled down. 

_ This cannot go on,  _ Tora thought, loosening his tie. Quincey is involved too. How could he steer away from Poppy, when Princess will work with her on a daily basis?  _ I’ve gone too far. But maybe there’s still time to leave her be. I still have to figure out where that fucking notebook is.  _

“Tora? Can I join you?” Poppy’s voice interrupted his reflections. He flinched when she tugged at his sleeve. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you…” she withdrew her hand. 

“No, ‘s fine. I was just lost in thought. C’mere.” Tora stubbed out his cigarette and reached for her. She sat down on a bench, hugging herself, as small goosebumps rose on her arms. 

“You’re cold. Here, put this on,” he offered her his suit jacket, covering her small figure with it like a cloak. 

“That is very kind of you. Thank you.” She smiled - that genuine, kind smile he could never grow tired of. 

She was trembling and Tora felt the need to wrap her up in his arms, just like the one time he caught her falling from that tree. Her weight pressing close to his chest, her sweet scent that still lingered in his memory, he wanted that again. But he just limited himself to sit near her and drape one arm around her shoulders, keeping her on his side. Poppy rested her head on him and stifled a yawn. 

“What was on your mind?” she asked.

“Stuff. Nothing. Are ya tired? Princess givin’ ya headaches with all that spinning?”

Poppy laughed. “He does like to dance. I was not expecting that.”

“He is full of surprises,” Tora muttered furrowing his eyebrows. 

Without looking at him, Poppy asked “You don’t sound too happy that I’m going to work with him.” When Tora did not reply, she teased, “So you’re not a full-time thug then? You do part-time as a bodyguard as well?”

Tora smirked. “Yeah, ya got me all figured out. Am I less scary now?”

Poppy removed his hand from her shoulder, but instead of letting it go, she interlaced her fingers through his. He tightened the hold, watching her palm disappear completely into his own. She looked up, all serious, searching his eyes . 

“You are not scary to me.”

_ But you are to me, _ Tora thought.  _ You give me hope.  _ His heart pounded so loud in his chest that he worried she might hear it. Whatever goodbyes he had planned, vanished. Whatever thoughts of distancing himself from her, melted away. He found himself unable to break her touch, so they sat there in silence, embracing the sense of comfort and of something new that Tora never felt before. 

They did not notice that inside a blonde young man was watching them, bewildered, through the glass walls of the restaurant.

*******

A few days after the attack on Balthuman’s residence Poppy returned to her home, defying Gyu’s instructions. She didn’t care anymore, what’s the point of her safety now? The world went on like nothing ever happened. Even the newspapers died down and moved to more interesting topics. Nobody came after her and she would not stay idle, waiting, like a helpless little lamb. 

Every day she drove to the hiking trail, searched the woods, stayed awhile, and came back. She thought back at the day she found the bloody shoe and at the irony of it all. Her sorrow grew into frustration and anger.  _ What the hell is taking Gyu so long?  _ The more days passed, the more desperate she became.  _ What if I cannot find him? What if he’s really…? What do I do now? _

She had to leave her job in a hurry when Tora took her to the safe house. Said something to Erdene about taking a short vacation. Poppy couldn’t remember, some days were blurred from her memory. Since then she spent many hours waiting and hoping and looking for signs in every bit of news she could get her hands on. Crying herself to sleep. Moving through her small apartment like a stranger. Forgetting to eat, until Gyu showed up at her doorstep with some takeaway. Still no luck. No answers. No results. The sight of him was almost unbearable, but Poppy could not fault him, he was trying his best. She ate whatever he brought, then she ushered him away, wishing to be left alone. 

She thought that maybe she should return to work, keep herself busy. She could maybe use her connections to find out more. Gil would probably not want her back at her job so soon. Today she was supposed to get back from her vacation when Gil called her. He heard the crack in her voice and he put two and two together. Discreet as he was, he did not press the matter further.

“I’ve lost a friend. He… died,” Poppy lied on the phone. She could not bring herself to say his name out loud yet. Gil did not know about them and maybe it was for the best. 

“I’m sorry, Poppy. Take as much time as you need. We’ll be here when you return. Erdene offered to help and work with Quincey on the last draft. I’m hoping to get this completed this week…”

“Wait,” Poppy interrupted her boss, “is..is Quincey there?” She sounded confused and hopeful. 

“No, he is at home. Erdene is texting him and he currently does not wish to see anyone. But I hope she’ll convince him to come back to the office in no time. You know how persistent she can be.”

Poppy felt the adrenaline rising in her body. “Sure. Talk to you later, Gil. Gotta go.” 

“Condolences, Poppy. Take care.” Gil hung up. 

_ No. Condolences be damned. That Princess is the reason for everything that has happened and he’s sitting safe and well at home? To hell with that. _ Rage was boiling inside her. She grabbed her bag and darted outside. 

Gyu saw her from the security booth and ran after her. 

“Hey, Poppy, where are you going? Wait!” 

Poppy sprinted towards her car, got inside, and slammed the door. Backing away quickly, she got out of the parking lot and disappeared from view leaving only a trail of smoke and gas behind her. 

Gyu cursed, took out his phone, and started typing into some apps. “Fuck, Bro. You never gave me an easy job, did you?” he muttered. “Let’s see what trouble your woman’s got into now.”


	4. The Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, this is going to be a bumpy ride. *emotional overkill* - Sorry guys.
> 
> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 4: The Guilt**

Poppy drove furiously through the streets of Narin City. She was swaying left and right, avoiding slower vehicles, getting annoyed flashes and honks from the other drivers. Her hands shook, so she clenched them harder on the steering wheel. Small tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away and pushed the gas pedal further down. She screeched to a halt at a red traffic light in front of her. 

_Breathe, Pops. Just breathe._

She opened the glove box and rummaged behind some papers. Saw the silvery glimmer of the gun. Felt its cold handle. 

_Ok. I can do this. You taught me well, Tora. The car, the gun, the rage... pieces of you that live inside me now. How could you have foreseen this? I don’t know, but I am glad you did. Help me get through it now._

The phone buzzed on the nearby seat, startling her. Eyes fixed on the road, she answered and put it on the car’s speaker system. Gyu’s voice filled the space, loud and clear.

“Poppy, please don’t do anything stupid. It’s not young Master Quincey’s fault.”

“How do you know where I’m going?” Poppy hissed. Then she suddenly realized. All of the times Gyu showed up at her doorstep. All of the times Gyu brought her food when she returned from her daily trip. Calling to check up on her. He was more present in her life than ever before. 

“Did you have a tracking device in my car? Did you follow me, Gyu? Did Tora put you up to this?”

The silence on the other end was all the answer she needed. 

“Where is Tora? Does Quincey know?” she snarled. Her pulse quickened, her mind buzzing with thoughts and maybe...hope? Did Gyu know more than he was telling her? She felt like her head could explode. 

The light turned green and she drove off, bracing herself for what she was about to hear.

On the other side of the city, Gyu paced in the parking lot. 

“Tora is dead, Poppy.” The words trembled, hanging in the air like toxic smoke. “He wanted...he asked me…please, Poppy. Please come back home. Let me tell you everything. Don’t do something you’ll regret.” Gyu closed his eyes. The memory of that night was still heavily imprinted on his brain. Another burden added to his past. 

“I warned him. He should not have gone to that negotiation meeting. The Nine Daggers knew it was Vincent who ordered the attack on their generals. That meeting was a trap and Big Bro walked right into it.” 

“Nine Daggers?” asked Poppy, confused. “Are they...the rival clan? Goliath’s clan?”

Gyu was taken aback. 

_Does Poppy know about Goliath_? _Okay, one question at a time_. 

He would have preferred not to do this over the phone, but he decided to recount that night for her. 

“Listen, Poppy, here’s how it went down...”

***

Tora’s voice was tense on the phone. Gyu recognized his determination, heard it before, whenever Tora was preparing for a mission. Only this time Big Bro had more to lose than ever before. “Gyu, I’m going to Balthuman estate. Vincent asked for me.”

“Those shitheads from Nine Daggers are not there to negotiate, Big Bro. They know who was behind the sniper attacks. That’s why they took young master Quincey. You will walk into a bloodbath,” Gyu warned. He thought Tora was being reckless, but there was no arguing over Vincent’s orders.

“Do ya think I’m stupid? Or do ya think I have a choice? Stop telling me shit I already know and go access the inside cameras. You’ll be my eyes on this one.”

Gyu trusted him; looked up to him. As long as he’d known Tora, he was always in control. He had great instincts and more undercover missions under his belt than he could count. Why should this time be any different? So he did as was told - locked in his home among his computers, he checked the security cameras. 

Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Several guards patrolled outside the Balthuman estate, like any other night. Five unknown men belonging to the Nine Daggers clan arrived in a single car and were led into the house by one of the maids. 

The manor was huge, and one could easily get lost inside it. Gyu thought it looked like a palace or a very strange museum. Thick wool rugs muffled the steps of the small group of people as they were passing through several hallways. Golden-framed oil paintings adorned the walls everywhere. Beautiful decorated ceramic vases rested on top of tall antique side tables. The men were clearly not used to this kind of luxury - they stole glances at every piece, looking very much like hungry wolves. 

They entered one of the empty rooms Vincent used to receive guests. The maid left them there, and they looked around curiously. In the middle of the room stood a round mahogany table surrounded by matching chairs. A wall was entirely covered by shelves full of leather-bound books. On the other side, liquor carts carried trays with crystal glasses and expensive whiskey, while others were fully stocked with different types of wines. Left and right of the double doors two life-sized marble statues of Greek gods looked down on the men.

_The motherfucker loves his statues,_ thought Gyu, watching the judgmental gods, and feeling a shiver down his spine. _Those frickin’ things! They look at you as if they’re alive._

Soon enough five other men entered the room and Gyu spotted the Balthuman crest on their necks. He reported to Tora over the headphones.

“Five Nine-Daggers. Five of Vincent’s. I don’t know any of them.” 

The rival clan members were standing on the far side of the round table. Clustered together, they were talking and nodding, but Gyu could not distinguish their words. When Tora entered, it was like the air escaped the room, leaving instead a dense silence. They looked over at Tora and judging by their faces, they recognized the Tiger of Ares Street. The man, who was said to be a beast. The man, who was raised into a weapon of the Balthuman clan. Arms folded over his chest, Tora scrutinized the people in front of him, frowning and not saying a word. 

“Where the fuck is Balthuman?” The one who seemed to be their leader broke the silence. 

Gyu asked himself the same question. _Where is Vincent? Or Martin? Or those lowlife generals Scharch and Claude? And the men from my clan are so… young_. _Something is odd._ His senses were tingling and he could only wonder if Tora felt the same way. He saw the disturbance in the small group of people, and whispered in Tora’s earpiece “Big Bro…”. The warning was already too late.

“Vincent you treacherous motherfucker!” Another Nine Daggers shouted. “Take out his beast! Now!” 

Then Gyu heard the loud pops of gunfire and watched helplessly as the chaos unfolded. A split second before the Nine Daggers men started shooting, Tora flipped the table towards them. Splinters of wood exploded in the room, as bullets pierced through the expensive furniture. Tora drew his own gun and took cover behind one of the statues, avoiding just in time the impact of another shot aimed at his chest. The statue’s hand cracked and crashed on the floor. Balthuman men fired back and ducked on the other side, pushing the liquor carts in an attempt to stop the attackers. Glass shattered and a pool of amber liquid splashed at their feet. A man collapsed - Gyu heard the thud of his body hitting the floor. A quick glance at the other cameras and his greatest fear was coming true.

“Big Bro, nobody’s coming. There’s no backup, get out!” 

Tora slammed open the double doors and darted out of the room quickly followed by men from both clans. Gyu heard Tora panting, as he was running on the long corridors. He lost sight of him for a moment. The gunshots echoed in the distance. 

“Where the fuck is Vincent? Where the fuck is Quincey??” Tora asked between heavy breaths. 

“I don’t see them anywhere. This was all a setup. Big Bro, get out of there. Get out now!” Gyu’s heart was racing.

He saw Tora again on another screen, alone this time, turning a corner and sliding into the shadows of the hallway. Everything went silent for a second. An eerie quiet. Frightening quiet. Gyu froze when Tora finally spoke - his words decisive, both a prayer and a threat - “Guard her with your life, Gyu! She has to be safe or I’ll come back and haunt you until the end of your days!”

Then a loud noise, a thunderous, deafening noise that Gyu still hears in his dreams. The cameras went black. In the earpiece - static. Just like that - the end of a legend. 

***

When Gyu finished his story, Poppy was crying silently, tears falling on the steering wheel. She was in the underground parking lot of Quincey’s building. Couldn’t remember how she got there, as pictures of Tora facing a curtain of bullets were ransacking through her head. 

“Pops...I’m sorry.” Gyu was trying to contain his own sadness.

“I am not Pops to you. You couldn’t save him, the same way you cannot keep me safe.” Poppy let out through gritted teeth. “Just...get me those text messages as we agreed.” 

She was being a jerk to Gyu. His remorse was difficult for her to hear, especially when she also felt the same guilt eating away at her soul. 

She hung up and wiped her face. Determined, she took the small silver gun from the glove compartment, stuck it in her bag, and got out of the car. As the elevator carried her to the penthouse floor, she remembered Tora’s worried face the day he left her. 

***

Tora had been chain-smoking in the kitchen of that foreign apartment. He whisked Poppy away from her life the day before, saying something about clan wars and her not being safe anymore at home. They knew this day would come, they prepared for it, but Poppy felt there was much more to this than he was letting her know. Whatever his plan was, it was not working as he expected it to. 

On top of that, Quincey was MIA, after Gil had discussed the last draft with him. Poppy was getting used to Quincey’s fits, but this was new and she grew restless. When he did not reply to any of her calls or texts, she turned to Tora asking for help. 

“He’s just being his usual Drama Queen. Give him a day or two to patch his wounded pride and he’ll come strollin’ in like nothing ever happened.”

But then she saw Tora go into the kitchen and type furiously on his phone.

_“Where the fuck are you, Quince? Poppy‘s worried about ya ass.”_

Nothing.

_“Don’t be a jerk. Pick up your goddamn phone.”_

Silence.

_“Princess, I swear to God...if this is one of your tantrums I’ll break every bone in your body.”_

Crickets.

_”Just pick up your motherfuckin phone. Call me a monster or some shit, you self entitled prick, just pick up!”_

“No luck?” Poppy embraced him from behind, sneaking her arms on his chest. Tora turned to face her and kissed her temple. 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up soon enough.” 

But she was not convinced. She knew Tora better than that and the absent look on his face meant he was already thinking to check Quincey’s apartment and send his men out looking for him. 

His phone rang, startling them both. Poppy felt Tora's body tense like a bow under her palms and moved away, watching him answer the call. 

"They've got my boy, Tora. The motherfucking Nine Daggers have my son!" Vincent was angry and desperate, his voice loud enough to be heard from across the room. “I’ve talked with their leader, he’s willing to negotiate. Come to my estate outside Narin City now. Hurry, son.”

Tora could not look at Poppy. She gasped “No” and quickly covered her mouth with her hands. She backed away two steps, shaking her head. Her hands and feet were suddenly cold and numb and she had a sinking feeling as her heart dropped to the floor, leaving an empty hollow space behind it. She saw the gleam of unshed tears in Tora’s eyes, the tightening of his jaw - he had no choice. Trapped. Torn between saving her or Quincey. She knew that he would choose honor over love, he would have hated himself otherwise. And this is why she loved him. She knew his decision before he voiced a low "I have to go." She was safe for now, but Quincey was not and there was no disobeying a direct order from his boss. 

This was the moment she feared from the very beginning. The moment when one wrong choice would send them both into destruction. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was all wrong, that Quincey’s disappearance was a setup, and that she was about to lose everything she cared for. Watching Tora's internal struggle, she could not say it out loud. She had no proof, just a gut feeling and that was not enough for him to decide against saving his brother. If she had said something then… would she have Tora by her side now? Would Tora be the one raging against Quincey, calling him out for whatever wicked plan he was a part of? But she kept silent, doubting her judgment. After all, what did she know about gangs and their rivalries? Her only window into that world was Tora and as much as he tried to shield her from the gruesome aspects of his life, she saw a part of it. Choosing to love him meant she was now trapped with him. Considering where things were going, she would die alongside him in this senseless war. And she would choose it over again in a heartbeat. 

“Bobby…" Tora was beside her, lifting her in his arms, pressing her body into his, ferociously, desperately. She hid her face at the base of his neck, inhaling his scent of musk and cigarettes and everything that was now her home, wishing to stop time. They have had so little time.

They kissed with madness, and longing, and fear. Fear of the looming shadows closing in on them. Fear of the unbearable loneliness if something were to happen to either one of them. She traced her hands all over his body, frantically, as if she wanted to memorize him through touch. Every inch of warm skin, and bone, and muscle, every fiber of his being belonged to her. And she belonged to him beyond words or touch. Her ancient soul sang its siren’s call in all their past lives until she found him. Her soul remembered him.

He cupped her face with one hand and kissed her again and again, stopping only to draw breath. 

"Remember what I showed ya, what you’ve learned. Even though you’ll not need it here. I’ll be back as soon as I can." 

He lied and Poppy knew it. How could she not? He was a part of her now, how could one say goodbye to a part of oneself?

“Bobby, I…” 

He tightened his hold of her. Poppy did not need to hear those three words, that could not escape his lips. She saw them in the fire of his eyes. Felt them in his embrace. She put a hand over his chest, where his heart measured the little time they had left. 

“Shh. I know, Tora. Come back to me.” 

“Always.” 

They clung to hope, to some miracles of fate. Surely miracles must exist, how could they've found each other otherwise? 

_***_

_Come back to me, Tiger. Wherever you are._

Poppy reached towards the door and rang the bell. She clenched a hand over the gun in her purse. 

“Just a second! I’ll get my wallet.” She heard Quincey’s voice from inside the apartment. She heard his footsteps approaching the door. Was he expecting food delivery? 

_Breathe, Pops._

Quincey opened the door and the sight of Poppy, pointing a gun at him, made him drop the wallet on the floor, his mouth agape in shock and disbelief.

“Be still, Quince.”

Poppy entered the apartment, still aiming at the frightened man. She looked around quickly, then returned her gaze to Quincey, noticing for the first time his appearance. He did not look like himself at all. Actually, if she were to cross paths with him on the streets, she would not have recognized him. Quincey’s hair was disheveled and greasy, his cheeks covered in a short blond stubble, his clothes all black. And was that alcohol she smelled coming from him? He was so unkempt that Poppy wondered for a brief moment if he is the same man she and Tora knew. 

After she lost Tora, Poppy spent many hours remembering Quincey’s actions and words. Trying to figure out if Quincey was just a pawn in somebody else’s game or if his disappearance was well-crafted manipulation. If he knew something before the attack or if he was the one that wanted Tora dead.

Now, seeing him alive and unharmed, the feeling of being played was stronger than her logic.

“Tell me where Tora is. Tell me what you’ve done to him.” Poppy kept her stand, although her blood was boiling and beads of sweat were crawling down her back. 

“Poppy...I don’t know where he is. There were...ashes everywhere. It was all my fault. I...I’m sorry,” Quincey faltered. 

“Sorry? Sorry does not cure me. He went there to save you! He would have done anything for you and you know it! Where were you? Did you set him up?”

_Will killing you cure me?_ The horrible thought crossed her mind _._ At that moment she felt a cold breeze, light as a feather, brushing over her face and hair. A low husky voice whispered in her ear. 

_Don’t shoot, sweetheart. You won’t be able to live with yourself. Don’t. Shoot._

“Tora?”

Poppy dropped the hand holding the gun. She looked around again, her heart racing, hoping to see Tora standing next to her. She could almost feel his presence. But no one was there, except her and Quincey. The confused look in Quincey’s eyes made her understand. Quincey did not hear him. Tora has not been there for him. Tora has been there only for her. 


	5. The Setup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.
> 
> Many thanks to saucytuggles for helping me beyond belief to bring this chapter to its polished form. 
> 
> I hope you will enjoy it and bear with me until the end.

**Chapter 5: The Setup**

Poppy steadied herself. Feet slightly apart firmly planted on the floor, both hands on the firearm, she concentrated at the target in front. She felt Tora’s hands on her shoulders, adjusting her position. Took a deep breath. Exhaled. Pulled the trigger. One, two, three, four times.

Poppy put down the gun, still feeling its kickback vibrating painfully through her arms. She took off her earmuffs and pressed the button on the side wall bringing the cardboard target closer. 

“Am I any good?” she asked, studying the holes scattered on the black silhouette of a man.

“Not bad, sweetheart,” Tora said.”Ya need to practice some more, but you’ve got the basics down.” He picked up the training pistol and weighed it out, thinking. “I’ll get ya a smaller one next time, maybe a compact one. It should help ya with the kick. Needs to be lighter too.”

Poppy watched him intently. She could tell he was in his element there, at the shooting range, talking about guns and teaching her to fire one. His knowledge of the topic saddened her - how old was he when he first held and fired a gun? How many years had he been doing this? How many people had he killed or hurt? She pushed the unsettling thought away. 

Poppy heard Gyu referring to Tora as the legend, the Tiger of Ares Street - this sort of renown is not easily gained. Did he learn the way of the streets by his own volition or did he have no other choice? This man held so many mysteries and watching him gaze at her, Poppy felt a bit ashamed of all her questions. 

Tora was nothing but considerate with her, many times acting like a gentleman despite his appearance. He was caring and tender, and against all odds, she felt safe around him. His world was ruthless, but he was not. She could only imagine how hard it must have been for him to hide away his true self to survive. How lonely. She too knew something about that. 

“Thank you again. For teaching me this,” she said.

He frowned and turned around facing her. She has seen that look before, the small wrinkles knotted in his eyebrows, the slight tension of his jaw, the thin line his mouth formed as he bit back burdensome words. 

“Not like ya gave me a better choice. Ya drive a hard bargain, Bobby. Fuck, if I’d had my way, you’d have been on the other side of this country until this goddamn war was over. None of this would’ve been necessary if I’d stayed the fuck away from ya.” 

Tora stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked away. He glared at the side wall with such intensity that Poppy wondered how come it did not crumble on the spot. 

The anger burned through him, hot and merciless. She was drawn into his _fucking mess_ and he hated the fact that he did not leave the clan sooner, before she entered his life. Now that he had finally found a way to do so, they were treading on thin ice and could not afford any mistakes. Especially with Vincent growing restless and more demanding since the Nine Daggers clan started claiming parts of the city for themselves. But Tora could not protect her forever. 

Poppy felt her chest constricting and a dull pain settling inside. It was like her heart, which fluttered like a bird whenever she was around him, somehow fell wounded and silenced in deep dark waters. He still did not understand. 

She approached Tora and got hold of his hands. Lifting her gaze up to him, she said softly “Hey, I have chosen you too, remember? And I’d do it all over again and again until the end of time. I want you, all of you. Faults and all. I don’t care if I need to learn how to fire a gun, I don’t care if we need to hide, I don’t care if I need to change my name and leave everything behind…,” she rested a hand over his chest, “...as long as I have you.”

Poppy pressed her open palm over his shirt, wishing it to carry the echo of her words inside of him. 

”What I do care about is that you worry about me. Until you finish what you’ve started and leave the clan, I don’t want to be a liability. We’ve discussed this already, I must be able to defend myself, if necessary. It’s only a sensible choice.”

Poppy felt him soften under her touch, but as he was still averting his eyes, she continued, “And if you’ll ever think again I would be better off away from you, I’ll track ya ass down and kiss the stubbornness out of you until you lose your mind.”

Something between a snort and a laugh escaped him, and Poppy’s heart began to flutter again. A boyish grin returned to his lips, revealing those damn dimples she adored, and he finally looked back at her. 

“I’ve already lost…” he began, but Poppy reached out to him, cupping his face with one hand, pulling him close. Tora arched an eyebrow, a mischievous question in his eyes, a smirk on his lips. Anticipating his words, Poppy whispered, “Shut up and kiss me, Tiger.” 

Without waiting for him to react, she raised onto her toes and clung to his neck. The questions disappeared from his gaze, leaving behind a heat of gold that laid bare her soul to him. The world fell silent around them. She felt the warmth of a blush sweeping across her cheeks as he grazed his thumb over her bottom lip. Thousands of touches have passed between them and he still had that effect on her - rustling her insides like a blazing wind, drawing all the breath from her body in one single moment before their mouths met. Tora circled his arms around her, pulling her harder against him. The taste of him intoxicated her, leaving her wanting more. His kiss was all taking, needing, possessing, and she let him, welcomed him, abandoning herself into his embrace. 

***

Quincey stared at Poppy, his mouth agape, his hands raised tentatively in the air, as she quickly looked around. For a moment her gaze lost focus and she asked for Tora. His name on Poppy’s lips sounded like a prayer and Quincey was pained to hear it this way. If she thought Tora was here, she must have lost her mind. 

“Poppy? Are you ok?” Quincey asked, recovering from the initial shock. 

The sight of Poppy threatening him at gunpoint was surreal. In all the time working with her, he pegged her for the sweetest angel, all sunshine and warmth. The Poppy he knew was a gentle, innocent little woman. That gun did not belong in this picture. 

_So she’s a little firecracker, who knew?_ Quincey thought, undecided if this new side of her was to be taken seriously or not. He took one step cautiously towards her. 

“Don’t move an inch,” Poppy snarled, with a quick jerk of the silvery pistol. 

Quincey froze on the spot, eyes fixed on the weapon. _I’ve got to hand it to her, she looks like she knows how to maneuver that thing._

“Tora taught me,” she said as if reading his mind. “He knew I might need it. But I guess he never dreamed I could be using it against you of all people."

Her knuckles were sickly white against the cold metal in her hands. For a brief moment, Quincey wondered if this is how the eye of Death would look like to him - a small black hole of a barrel. He considered the grim prospect of an imminent end. He was an asshole these past weeks, but to die like this? It seemed a little...extreme. He must defuse the situation.

Wary of her movements, Quincey nodded towards the gun and spoke, as calmly as he could muster “Poppy, would you put that away, please? I would rather not die today. Can we talk? Tell me what you want from me?”

“I want to know if you’re a traitor,” she let out through gritted teeth. “I want to know if you led the man you claimed as a friend into a trap. I want to know if Tora is dead or alive and I want you to take me to him, wherever he is.” 

“Poppy…” Quincey’s voice broke. “I am not a traitor. I would never do such a thing.”

Poppy was tense, fighting back tears. She needed answers, but Quincey didn’t want her to see who he was, what he had done. He knew beforehand that she would be disappointed. And somehow disappointing her - this little slip of a woman, honest and true, courageously wearing her heart on a sleeve, this woman he grew to cherish and respect in just a few months - would be unbearable to him. 

Nevertheless, she pressed on, determined and fierce. “Where were you on the night of the attack? You went missing for two days. Tora and I were worried about you. We tried to reach you, but you just...disappeared. And now you’re here like nothing ever happened… were you even kidnapped at all?” 

“Kidnapped? No,” Quincey replied, his tone contrite. He ran a hand through his hair in a reflex gesture. They were going to face this, weren’t they? Might as well, he was feeling miserable anyhow. “But I did not set him up, you have to believe me!” he continued. “If anything, this is a misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” Poppy arched her eyebrows. “Explain.”

“Please, can you put the gun away first? I am in no position to harm you and I shall tell you everything you want. Just…let’s sit down and talk, shall we?” 

Poppy nodded and gestured towards the armchair by the coffee table, inviting him to sit down. After he did so, she let herself sink into the couch across from him, her gun rested on her lap.

“You have 10 minutes.”

Quincey took a deep breath and picked up a glass of red wine from the coffee table. He drank the whole thing in a single motion. Then he put the glass back, eyeing the scattered empty bottles on top and around the table. No more wine left. _Well, this should do. No avoiding it now._

“It started when Gil gave me hell over the last draft of my book. I thought we were making progress and the last chapters were coming in nicely, but all of a sudden he changed his mind and asked me to rewrite them from a different angle. I don’t know what came over him. He was downright rude. It was like I worked all month for nothing. You know how much effort I put into those chapters! I never felt so utterly disrespected and humiliated in my life!” Quincey grimaced. 

“So I… went away. To clear my head. I… my family has a beach house in Minarano. The sea is beautiful there and it always calms my nerves. I wished to be left alone so I did not even text Tora about it. I knew he was with you, and also that he had… other duties to fulfill for my old man.”

“You...went...to the beach?” Poppy looked at him in disbelief. “Are you telling me that while Tora and I called you and texted you hundreds of times, while we thought you were in danger, you were... _calming your nerves_?” It was obvious that Poppy struggled to contain her voice to a normal noise level and Quincey worried that he might not reach the end of his story. Hell, he would not have believed himself either. But he must confide in her, maybe she would help him make sense of it all. 

“I did not see any of your calls. I shut my phone down. Intended to go yachting, to be out at sea, with my own thoughts. But before I got a chance to do that, I had a visit. Uncle Martin came to the house. He said he took a few days off and had no idea I was there. I believed him. Had no other reason not to. Him showing up was surprising enough, but something even stranger happened to me later.”

“You see, my uncle and I were close when I was growing up. After I lost my mother, my father became distant, he was more preoccupied to expand his businesses than to pay much attention to me. So uncle Martin stepped in. I don’t know if it was because I reminded him so much of his sister or if he felt like it was his duty to the greater family, the clan, to protect the heir of the Balthuman empire… He had no children, so I was like a son to him. He always believed in my talent, always encouraged me to pursue it. I think he was the one who got me my first publishing deal. He was the one who understood my need to distance myself from clan business and be on my own. To the very much dismay of my father. There is more to this but now is not the time. Long story short, I went on my way and Martin stayed behind, becoming one of the trusted advisors of my father. Due to the nature of his work, we barely talked over the past few years.” 

“So naturally, when I saw him at the beach house, I suddenly wanted to vent, to let out the anger I felt towards Gil. I knew Martin would understand me and lift my spirits. We drank some wine, chatted, drank some more. After that, the evening gets blurry. I cannot remember the rest of our conversation, or how I got into bed, only that I woke up eighteen hours later, with a splitting headache. My uncle was already gone. Clan business, I suspect.”

“So you went away, shut down your phone, got drunk, and passed out? Do you expect me to believe that?” Poppy seethed. “What the hell is strange about that? Other than your best friend believed he had to save your sorry ass and got himself...?” Poppy stopped mid-sentence as if she just figured out a complicated riddle. 

“Please, Poppy,” Quincey pleaded. ”I am so ashamed of that, I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life. It’s strange because I never ever got drunk up to the point of passing out. Too much alcohol ruins your body and mind in ways I do not wish to experience. It is simply not done in my rulebook. And besides, I remember we emptied just a few glasses of wine. Surely you don’t pass out from a few glasses?”

Poppy leaned towards him, sniffing the air between them. “Are you drunk now, Quince? Breaking your own rules, are you? Why is that?”

She had not received the answers she was looking for. She only had more uncomfortable questions. Quincey continued, ignoring the burning sensation he felt in his chest under the scrutiny of her brown eyes. 

“It took me a while to come to my senses and by the time I got back to Narin City, I heard what happened on the radio. I hurried to the estate, but it was already much too late. They said it was a bomb attack. The entire west wing of the house had crumbled. Everything burned down. There were ashes everywhere…The police did not let me get closer. But I remember the smell, Poppy...burnt flesh and smoke...that wretched smell I cannot get out of my mind.” Quincey hunched in the armchair, putting his head between his palms, his face contorted in pain. 

“Quince…” Poppy’s voice was soft now. She put the gun down, circled the coffee table, and came near him. She gently patted his back, all her previous anger forgotten for the moment. ”This is why you emptied these bottles here, Quince? To numb yourself?” 

“He was my brother, Poppy. We may not have shared the same blood, but he was family to me more than anyone. I miss him and I failed you both, and I could not face you anymore after that. If I would not have run away like a spoiled child or if I would not have shut my phone down, then maybe he would still be alive...” his voice caught as warm tears began to pool at his feet. 

No more words were left to be spoken and the silence covered them like a cloak, interrupted only by the small whimpers that Quincey could not contain anymore. The alcohol did not work, he was not drunk and not remotely numb. The self-isolation did not work too, as Poppy intruded into his sorrow, poking him in all the hurtful places, asking him all the inconvenient questions. These emotions were new to him - shame and powerlessness - he did not know how to deal with them or if they were ever going to set him free. 

“I believe you, Quincey,” Poppy said softly. 

She continued to run her hands on his back and those light movements comforted him until he regained his composure. She kept quiet, lost in her own thoughts. He wished he could offer her some sort of magical solution that could bring her Tora back. But all his money and privilege were powerless in front of death. 

_We would need a miracle, dear Poppy. Nothing less than a miracle._

Their lives have been turned upside down in one cursed night. Quincey had no idea how to return to his old self or if that self even existed anymore. At least Poppy believed him. What a small solace it was. 

“Well Quince, it looks like we both have been played.” Poppy said after a while.

“What do you mean?” Quincey asked, looking up at her. She was standing next to him, biting her lower lip, sadness painted on her face. 

“Sounds like you were drugged. And if your uncle is close to your father as you say, that means Vincent knew you were at the beach house, alive and well. When he called Tora that night...he was in such a state...your father can act, Quince. A top-notch class act that was. He convinced Tora you were taken by people from Nine Daggers as retaliation to some mission gone bad and did not give him time to think. Tora rushed there, hoping to negotiate your release.”

Quincey opened his mouth, wishing to say something, but the words didn’t seem to want to come out.

“Why would my uncle drug me?” he asked, still resentful of this idea. 

“Because he wanted to keep you there, out of reach.” Poppy replied. “It’s the only possible explanation I have.” 

“But why would my father want to kill Tora? His most valuable, trained to perfection asset? Unless…” Quincey paused. Random memories were coming back to him. Things he did not pay much attention to, in their every-day life. He thought that Tora was just being himself, moody and secretive, disappearing on him more often than not... muffled conversations, snappy replies when he dared to ask about them… little pieces of a puzzle that were coming together now, falling into place until realization dawned on him. “Tora was working against dad, right Pops?” 

Poppy nodded, silently. Her eyes were filled with sadness and concern. Quincey felt nauseous. He always thought his dad to be on the wrong side of the law...but this… this was vicious, even for him. Would Vincent dispose of Tora so easily, knowing he was also Quincey’s friend since childhood? Who was his old man? 

Quincey wondered if he was so self-absorbed that he did not know what happened around him? Or didn’t want to know? The world he turned his back on, the world he ignored so successfully while making a name for himself… the world Tora belonged to but never spoke too much of, revealed itself to him now in bits and pieces, like broken glass of a mirror. To gather all these shards and glue them back into place, still, the mirror would not be mended, it would show the twisted truth he never saw before.

Quincey felt suddenly adrift on a sea of unknown perils. Without his trusted friend by his side, he was alone and forlorn. And Poppy as well. She was, too, lost and heartbroken, but unlike him, she still held on to hope. Quincey wished for that miracle with all his might. Because they were both standing in the shadow of a man who had spent all of his life protecting them. And what a heavy shadow it was.


	6. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 6: The Beginning**

Several weeks had passed since Goliath disappeared into thin air, leaving nothing but a bloody trail behind. Despite his efforts to find that damn notebook, Tora still had no clue of its whereabouts. He was out of options. It was bad enough that Vincent was after the cursed thing, but the other power-hungry gangs had caught its scent as well and Tora feared he would soon lose control of the situation. 

Thoughts of Poppy being tortured for the information she didn’t have, by people way more ruthless than him, made his blood boil and his skin crawl. It seemed that the right thing to do was to cut any ties with her, as soon as he finished the simple job he had. Talk to her, find the notebook, get out. 

_Simple job... fuck was I wrong. Nothing worked like it was supposed to,_ Tora scoffed. He got in his car and lit himself a cigarette. He thought of how easy this plan sounded in his head back then and puffed the smoke out the window, watching it swirl away in the cool breeze of the evening.

There was no room for attachments in his line of work, but that fierce little woman slipped into his mind and nested into his dreams like a lost kitten which found a home. He never admitted aloud that he dreamt about her, that the image of her, appearing out of the bushes, all disheveled and frightened, danced behind his closed eyes every night. That he remembered her flowery smell when she fell into his arms, or that her touch on the cheek, tugging his hair behind the ear, felt familiar like a lost memory. 

He found himself drawn to her. Countless times he got in the car and drove aimlessly through the streets of the city, forcing himself to pay attention to something else than his longing for her. And every time he ended up in her neighborhood, passing by her building, defeating his purpose. He looked at her balcony, where the lights were on even in the early morning hours, and couldn’t help but wonder what she would think of him if she would know the truth? Would she fear him? Would she turn her back on him in disgust? Would she run away? If she had any sense at all, she should…But the thought of it made his chest ache and he drove back home, blowing through packs of cigarettes like candy, and thinking of how he could escape this overwhelming need for her.

When Poppy signed the book agreement with Quincey it made it impossible for Tora to keep his distance anymore. By that time he was already tired of this endless fight with himself and he felt a selfish wave of relief at the thought that she would be within his reach again, with a good reason this time. 

When he saw her the night of the party, at Chevy’s, she was radiating joy and he could hardly take his eyes off her. When she sought him outside, her small hand in his own, with her beautiful smile, and her body nestled under his suit jacket, so close to him…Tora realized that he was already past the point of no return. And that, by some miracle, she wanted to be in his life. She fueled his heart with hope that maybe there would be a way for him to live, outside the clan. And maybe one day he would deserve her. Since this thought had entered his mind, he decided to find that way, to fight for it, and to protect Poppy from the others’ prying eyes until it was done.

Tora stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray of the car and glanced at the phone. Seven o’clock. He should get moving if they were to make it in time for dinner. Just when he got the car out of the parking lot, his phone rang. He frowned when he saw it was Alice. Since she hardly ever called him, Tora got a sinking feeling this was bad news.

“Alice. Somethin’ wrong?”

“Hello, Tora.”

The voice on the other end seemed tired, but not frightened and Tora relaxed a little in his seat. 

“I need ya to come here tonight. We gotta talk.”

“Ya ok?” Tora asked, cautiously. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about me. It’s the damn roof, it’s leaking again,” Alice replied.

Tora got the message. _Okay, then. So it is some bad news, but not the worst kind,_ he thought. 

“I’m on my way,” he said and paused briefly, before deciding to speak again. “Alice… I’ll bring someone with me tonight. We were going to come to have dinner anyway.”

The old lady did not answer at first, but Tora heard her inhaling on her vape pen a few times and as he knew her, he could swear he felt her smiling through the phone. 

“Sure. Green tea and your usual table will be ready when you arrive,” Alice said and hung up. 

_Yeah, she was smiling alright. Better not humiliate me again, Alice. I’ve got enough on my plate as it is._ Tora sighed while steering the car on the highway towards Poppy’s neighborhood. 

Tora didn’t need another busybody in his life. He thought of Quincey and how excited he was to be working with Poppy and her team. He would not stop talking about her every damn day, caught in his enthusiasm for the new book, considering himself lucky to have found such a great editor. As if Tora needed reminding of how smart or beautiful she was. No, Quincey did it on purpose, he was playing matchmaker and although he was quick to hide under the veil of innocence, Tora did not buy his act for one second. Princess was enjoying this. 

_No need for those games, Princess. I am already a fool for her. If you would open your damn eyes you'd see that this is a trainwreck waiting to happen,_ he mused, remembering that he also had a job to do and he was nowhere near its completion. And now Alice had him worried as well. He stepped on the gas pedal, leaving the hustle of the city behind, as he approached the Narin River banks. 

Poppy’s building was in a remote neighborhood on the other side of the river. The rent was cheap and the view was excellent, but Tora was concerned with her, living so far away from him. Protecting her was constantly on his mind. He decided to persuade her to drive her own car instead of taking the bus to work and to install proper locks on her home. He put his number on the speed dial of her phone. He told her about Gyu, working as a guard, that he was a friend and could help her if she ever needed to. Tora was aware that he must have looked like an overprotective boyfriend to her, even if they did not have that kind of relationship. But Poppy did not raise any questions, she sensed that he could not reveal much of the reasons he did all those things, so she accepted them, with the same look on her face that pierced his soul. As if she knew them already.

All this gave him some peace of mind, but not enough. Gyu had other jobs too, meaning he worked in shifts, and the other man who shared the booth with him was an ordinary civilian. Tora wondered if he should get another one of his clansmen on guard duty but quickly dismissed the thought. It would draw too much attention. This should do for the moment. 

Either way, Tora was around Poppy more often. In such a short time, their random meetings turned into planned dinners. He had no idea when he started coming over almost every day to eat with her or just simply to be around her. Poppy invited him at first, but then they got used to seeing each other in the evenings like it was an unspoken agreement between them. She got into a habit of telling him funny bits about her day at work, most of them from the endless supply of drama courtesy to Quincey. She made him laugh and it felt natural and so damn good, that Tora could not get enough of it. 

Whatever relationship it was between them, they kept it sheltered and private. Tora ignored Quincey’s teasing and Poppy avoided discussing him with her co-workers. They rarely went out together, mostly because of Tora’s paranoia, but some nights, like this one, he would yield to her requests and take her wherever she wished to go. This time she asked him to have dinner at Alice’s again. Something about doing a cover of picturesque little hidden restaurants throughout the city, whatever that meant. 

When he reached the gate of the compound, Poppy was already downstairs, chatting with Gyu. Tora got out of the car and lingered a moment outside before making his presence known to them. 

He looked at Poppy from behind the gate bars. The dim light of the evening cast amber shadows over her skin. The pink flowers printed over her ivory blouse reminded him of other ones, a long time ago, and of the person who taught him their meaning. Cherry blossoms. Why he connected Poppy with that little piece of happy memory, he could not tell. Maybe because he recognized the feeling, resurfacing now, whenever he saw her. 

He watched the short sheer sleeves of her top flutter softly in the light breeze and he wondered how it would feel if he could run his fingers along her arms, up to her shoulders, tugging at the edge of the fabric just enough to expose the delicate line at the base of her neck. How would it feel if he could press his mouth on that exact spot, her pulse trembling against his lips? If he could bury his face in the silkiness of her hair, letting himself be overwhelmed again by her scent? Tonight she had her hair down, cascading in auburn waves over her back - “let it wild” as she said once and he could not suppress a smile. His wild girl. 

_Christ, get it together! She’s not yours, you haven’t even kissed her! Quit being such an idiot! She needs a friend, not trouble and you’re nothing but that._ He scowled at the thought.

Poppy turned towards him and her eyes brightened when she saw Tora. Gyu followed her gaze and noticing Tora was standing by the gate, he quickly typed the code on his phone to open the automatic lock. 

“Hi, Tora,” Poppy said, walking towards him. “Ready to go?” She glowed, her excitement both endearing and contagious. 

“Hey, Big Bro, going out tonight?” Gyu asked as he followed Poppy towards the exit. 

“Not ya business,” Tora replied, but there was no harshness in his voice. He looked Gyu straight in the eyes and asked “Are ya still here in a couple of hours?”

“Yeah, my shift’s over in the morning. Got a job for me?” 

“Don’t know yet. Catch up later. I’ll text ya,” said Tora. He turned to Poppy, placing a hand on her lower back, directing her to the car. “Let’s go, Pops. Alice is expecting us.”

***

By the time they reached Alice’s place, it was already night. The long narrow street was dark, except for the diffuse light coming from the flowery lanterns placed outside the izakaya. Inside, behind the counter, Alice was pouring sake in neatly arranged small porcelain cups, which she then served to the group of customers sitting at the bar. The place was filled with people, talking loudly, laughing, and smoking. 

In the small and crowded space, Tora stood out by his solid build and quickly caught Alice’s eye. He made his way towards the counter, holding Poppy by the hand. Alice measured them both from head to toe straightening her thick-rimmed glasses. Tora greeted her and Poppy nodded shyly. 

“Alice, I see ya have your hands full tonight,” Tora said. Some of the people that surrounded them looked up at him curiously. He continued, undisturbed, “This is Poppy. Ya might remember her?”

“Of course I do, Tora. I’m not senile yet! Nice to see ya again, little lady. I take it you followed my advice?” Alice fixed her eyes upon Poppy, with an all-knowing look on her face and a shadow of a smile curling her mouth.

“Wha..? Oh,” Poppy flushed a brilliant shade of red and jerked her hand from Tora’s grasp. “Oh no, we’re not... “ 

“Hey! Cut it out, Alice!” Tora said sharply, feeling the pang of regret at Poppy’s reaction. “I remember ya wanted to talk, not butt in on my life. If that’s the case...” 

“Calm down, don’t go growling at me, Tiger. Your table is ready, I’ll be right up.” Alice inhaled on her vape pen and, turning around, she shouted towards the open kitchen, “Oi, James! Get out here, will ya?” 

A slim boy, with short tousled hair, dyed in a sickly shade of green, appeared from the kitchen. He didn’t seem to be more than seventeen years old. He was dressed in the server’s uniform, white shirt, black pants, and a short black apron tied around his waist. Four silvery piercings were lined up on one of his eyebrows, small and round like beads. 

As he approached them, Tora noticed thin pink lines that marked the skin on the boy’s forearms. There were so many of them. Somebody tried, unsuccessfully, to draw a spiderweb tattoo over them. Tora stiffened, suddenly feeling as if the walls and the low ceiling of the room were tightening on him. He frowned and balled his fists, eyes frozen on the boy’s scars, barely aware of Alice’s voice trailing behind him. 

“C’mon boy, I don’t have all night! Straighten up, will ya? Take over the bar, lemme show you who’s left to be served here…” 

“...Tora! Tora!…”

He did not hear her at first. Then he felt the warmth traveling up his arm, like a welcoming embrace, relaxing his muscles. Poppy had gotten hold of his hand and squeezed it, gently tugging at him, calling his name. He looked down at her as if awakened from a dream and saw worry reflected in her wide brown eyes.

“Tora, are you ok?” Poppy asked, not letting him go, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. 

Why was she looking at him like that? That moment he wished he could be anywhere else but there. Anywhere, just far from her, far from that fucking city, and its fucking ghosts.

_Just let me go, sweetheart, I’m every shade of fucked up there is. You don’t need this._

He could not say the words aloud. Instead, he shook his head, muttered “C’mon”, and headed for the stairs, still holding Poppy’s hand. 

***

They sat, on pillows, at the same table as the first time they had dinner together. The upstairs room was empty and quieter. The sound of lively chatter from below carried through the wooden floors up to them, but it was almost pleasant, indistinct, like the hum of a radio. Alice arrived earlier, bringing them a freshly brewed pot of green tea along with their order. The table was now full of all sorts of bowls and plates carrying bite-sized chicken _karaage_ , sashimi, appetizing _yakitori, agedashi_ tofu, and vegetable salads. 

“That boy, James, do you know him?” Poppy asked while she was pouring tea into two small cups. 

“No, he’s just one of Alice’s stray cats. Never met him before. He just… reminded me of someone,” Tora replied, head low, concentrated on the food in front of him. 

“Someone close? You seemed...upset.” 

“He reminded me of myself. I used to work here when I was ‘bout his age.” Tora looked her in the eyes, trying to figure out what has gotten into him to tell her that. “Ya know, trying to make ends meet and all that.” 

Poppy nodded. “I know. I worked from an early age too...After I lost my dad. It’s never easy when you have to grow up all of a sudden. And when everybody leaves you... At least I had my Grandma. Did you…?”

“Alice,” Tora replied simply. “I had Alice. And Joe, her son. He’s dead too,“ he added, his throat suddenly lumpy and dry. _Goddamnit! Shut up ya idiot! Yer a fucking ray of sunshine tonight, ain’t ya?_ He reached for a cup of tea, just to have something to do, somewhere to look at, and not at her. 

“I’m sorry, Tora. I…” Poppy hesitated, her knees brought to her chest, her hands cradling them. Without any warning she stood up, rattling the table, only to kneel beside Tora the next second, embracing him tightly. 

“Hey, what’cha doin’?” Tora was caught off guard and dropped the cup on one of the plates, with a loud clattering noise. The warm liquid pooled on the table, dripping on the floor. 

He felt Poppy’s breath on the crook of his neck and her palms cradling his back. Her body was soft and warm and he hugged her back, tightening his arms around her. The tears that stung his eyes remained unshed, being replaced by a quiet smile, like a promise. Her hair tickled his face and he inhaled deeply the perfume that never left his memory. Home. 

“I spilled the tea, Bobby,” he said in a low voice. 

“Oh yeah. Uhm...sorry about that,” Poppy replied, unwilling to break the hug. 

His smile grew wider. “No, really. Alice will kill us if anything’s broken. Well, not you, ‘cause you’re a _cute little lady_ , but me...I’ll have to wash the dishes for a month…”

Poppy giggled and moved aside. 

“Here, let me help you clean up,” she said, picking up the small teacup. “Oh look, it’s not even chipped! You’re in luck!” She said happily and lent him a box of tissues to wipe the floor with.

"What have ya done this time?" Alice was standing by the door, arms on her hips, the feathered shawl wrapped around her neck. They yelped in shock, then looked at each other and burst out laughing. Alice was squinting at them, as they were snug together, both on their knees, a bunch of paper tissues on the floor, trying to figure out what had happened. 

"Boy, you're head over heels…"

"Oi!" Shouted Tora, annoyed, throwing her a menacing look. The older woman seemed unfazed by his demeanor, but she decided not to finish her sentence, much to Tora’s relief. She stepped towards their table. 

"Granny Alice," said Poppy, standing up, "your food is delicious! And this place is so nice and cozy. Actually… This is kind of the reason why I’m here. To ask you if you would like this diner to be part of a story we're publishing on little family restaurants. I could send someone to take some photos and to ask you a few questions if you agree to it."

Alice puffed a few times on her e-cig, sending clouds of scented smoke above their heads, considering Poppy’s words. "Does it pay?" she finally asked. 

Poppy smiled, happy to have spiked her interest. “I’m sure I can arrange something with my boss.” 

“Very well then, why not? Send them here and we’ll talk,” Alice said. She then looked at Tora, her expression changing into an impatient one. She jerked her head towards the door. “Need ya help with something, boy. Come outside for a second.” 

Alice strolled out of the room and Tora got up and followed her. She waved to Poppy, “Have a good evening, little lady." 

She turned to Tora, "Bring her over more often, won't ya?” Then dropped her voice to a whisper "She's good for ya." 

***

“What’s wrong? Money problems again?” Tora was questioning Alice in the small room that she used as an office, next to the kitchen. He patted his pockets searching for the wallet. “I’ll handle it. But ya know Joe wouldn’t have liked for ya to be playin’... “ 

She cut him off, irritated, “Don’t tell me what my son would and wouldn’t have liked, boy! I know very well what I promised him.” She sighed, “It’s not about money.” 

Tora looked down on her, really noticing her perhaps the first time that evening. She was small and thin, her face full of wrinkles like a crumpled sheet of paper, her hands, spotted by age and by the nicotine she never parted from. She switched to vape pens a few years back, but Tora remembered her from longer than that when she used to burn entire packs of cigarettes all day long, always surrounded by clouds of smoke. In his memories, she was always old, but strong and fierce. Now she seemed suddenly frail. 

“It’s not your job to be takin’ care of me, Tora. Ya have your own promises to keep. And the lady you have there...” Tora shrugged, looking away. “No, don’t give me that. You know it’s true. I have eyes, boy. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Ya better do good by her.”

Tora was again a scrawny teenager, slouching under the intensity of her gaze. She was right, of course. He burst out.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that, Alice? Ya know what I am.” 

Alice shook her head, slowly. She patted his arm lightly and said, “There’s always a way out, child.” 

She moved away and stepped towards a desk in a corner. Rummaged through some papers and produced a sheet, folded down the middle. She turned to Tora and placed it in his hands. Tora unfolded the piece of paper and his eyes darted from side to side over rows and rows of names, and places, and timestamps. 

“Where did ya get this?” he asked, although his instinct already knew. 

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until Alice spoke, her voice crystal clear.

“Your brother is alive.”

_Goliath. Thank fuck._

  
  
  



	7. The Brothers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 7: The Brothers**

_Run! Just run! Don’t look back! Don’t stop! Run!_

Careless. He’d been careless and cocky. It was bound to happen sooner or later. _Fuck. I won’t make that mistake again. Assuming I get out of this alive._

He was running, panting, driven by primal instincts. Survival. Adrenaline flooded his veins, giving him strength. His senses were sharp, even now through the pain. Through the pounding in his ears. He heard the two men behind him shouting. Branches breaking underneath their feet. Loud gunshots fired at him. He had to be faster. Fear crept in, running cold sweat on his back. Quick, into the shadows, deeper into the dense forest. He had to get those bastards off his back. He knew these woods, had been here so many times before. He knew exactly where to go. But the pain in the arm and the wounded leg slowed him down. He had to get rid of the blood trail first. 

He hid beneath a large tree and tore up his shirt. Quickly wrapped his shoulder and upper arm as tight as he could, pressing on the open wound. That hurt like hell. He inspected the leg. No blood, just bruised and swollen. Every movement felt like torture, probably sprained. He lost a shoe. No time for it though, he’d have to endure the pain. He threw his backpack onto his other shoulder, took off the remaining shoe, and threw it as far as he could through the trees. He ran again in the opposite direction. 

Unexpectedly he ran better with his bare feet. It had been so long since he did that. But he knew, he remembered the moss patches that spread wide amongst the trees, he remembered the hidden path between the ferns. He ran like a wounded animal, gasping for air, heart thundering in his chest, ignoring the agony of his body. This time though the prey will escape its hunters. The shouts of his attackers were growing weaker and weaker. He smiled. Those fuckers did not stand a chance in these woods. City boys. He thanked the Goddess of Luck once again for his narrow escape. 

Now, to find that cabin. Adrenaline was starting to wear off, his head felt dizzy. He remembered the searing pain, his feet protested silently against the hard soil. The improvised bandage was soaked with blood. _Fuck, the wound must be deep_ . _That motherfucker drew the knife in a matter of seconds._

Maybe they were strong, but he was fast. And smart. The knife aimed at his neck pierced his upper arm instead. He was never a man of direct physical confrontations. He was the one always in the shadows, following and acting at the right time, swift, precise, and deadly. This time he was outnumbered and in broad daylight, nowhere to hide. He knew it was time to run the moment he felt the blade drilling into his flesh, a second too late. 

Good thing the woods were near, he did not choose that spot in vain. By the time his attackers knew what happened, he was already sprinting out of the bushes and through the trees. By the time they started shooting, he was out of their range. The Goddess has been good to him today. He wondered what he would pay for it later. The Gods were never merciful for free. 

His run transformed into a limp, making it a struggle to follow the old path. Finally, the sun pierced through the foliage above and he saw the small cabin, in a clearing ahead. His whole body ached. He was battered and bruised, the wrap from around his arm drenched in sweat and blood, his mind weary, his vision blurred. Just a few more steps... He collapsed on the front porch, losing consciousness. He was so close. 

***

The knock on the door woke him up. Insistent, determined. The one who was knocking would not go away. 

His eyes adjusted to the semidarkness. He looked around. The room was small and chilly. Sunlight slipped through the closed shutters, between the wood panels, painting the floor with golden stripes. _How long did I sleep this time?_ He wasn’t sure. Time passed in a blur of feverish dreams and lightless days. This secluded place was perfect for a hideout, but his aggressors were still out there and they would not give up. He knew they would search the woods thoroughly and it was only a matter of time until they would find the cabin. He would have to move soon. 

He got out of bed with difficulty. A sharp pain ran through his body, causing him to lose balance for a moment. His injured foot was wrapped in an ankle brace. It was mending slowly and soon he will not need the crutch anymore. His arm was swathed in bandages, the stitched wound still stiff and sore underneath. His recovery was entirely due to Alice. If it wasn’t for her, he would have probably bled to death on the porch. Such an anticlimactic ending. He had so many more things to achieve. Starting with repaying his debt to her and honoring his promise. 

He glanced at the square table in the corner. Old Alice had left him fresh food. And a pot of tea.

The knocking again, impatient this time. 

He moved slowly, his good arm gripping the crutch, trying to keep his foot above the ground at all times. He passed by the table, opened a bottle of pills, and popped one in his mouth, washing it down with a glass of Alice’s tea. He found his jacket laying on top of one of the two wooden chairs, near the table. He covered himself, his chest tattoos and old scars disappearing underneath the soft fabric. He moved as silently as possible towards the door and peeked through the eyehole. Recognizing his visitor, he sighed with relief and opened the door, grinning.

“Hey, Big Bro!”

Tora looked at him from head to toe. 

“Goliath.”

He shifted aside. Tora entered the cabin, bowing his head as not to hit the low door frame. Goliath chuckled. He forgot how tall his old friend was. He closed the door behind them and turned on a floor lamp. The dim light was barely enough to distinguish their faces. He gestured towards the chairs, inviting Tora to sit. He poured tea in two mugs and offered one to Tora. 

“Alice’s finest blend,” Goliath said, sitting down on the other chair. He watched Tora intently. His expression was as unreadable as always. The bastard learned only too well how to put up walls in front of other people. 

“So you’re alive after all,” Tora spoke, producing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Why did ya have to drag Alice into this?” 

Goliath shrugged. “I didn’t. I lucked out. She found me outside, unconscious. I’ve got no idea how she dragged me here, but she tended to my wounds. That woman’s got some skills. I guess all that practice stitching you up in the past did her and me a shitload of good, huh? Anyway, she took care of me these past weeks. I cheated death...with her help.”

Tora lit a cigarette and took a long drag. 

“Ya look fine to me,” he said. “Would it have killed ya to let me know sooner? Have ya any idea what shitstorm ya started?”

Goliath tried to ascertain the cause of his friend’s foul mood. _Good grief, is he still mad about that Lane business? Fuck._ He made one teensy mistake once and the big brute was not willing to let it go. He decided he should give him a taste of his own medicine. 

“Excuse me, I had to make sure you were not involved with those fuckers that tried to do me in. _You_ did not come when I texted you, so what was I supposed to think? I fought them all by myself, two goons from _your_ clan, out for blood. One of them tried to end me with a fucking knife. Good thing I have sharp reflexes…”

“I did come, ya little prick,” Tora growled. “Not that ya deserved it. Not all of us are fucking traitors. Found your shoe covered in blood and some of your notes.” 

_So this is_ _about the Lane business._ Goliath rolled his eyes. “Would you let it go already? I said I was sorry, didn’t I? How was I supposed to know you were there? My beef was with Vincent’s operation, I had no idea you’d be caught in the middle of it. Besides, I pulled some strings to get Lane to have your case. Silver lining am I right? Have you made any progress with her yet?” 

Tora stubbed out his cigarette into an ashtray. He seemed to ease up a little. He fished another cig from the pack and lit that one up as well. 

“Getting there. Had to lay low for a while. Clan elders did not want anymore negative media attention so Vincent had to swallow it. He did not send me on any more missions. But ya stirred that up, with your fucking notebook. Word got out on the streets, spread like wildfire. And guess who wants it more than anything?” 

“Good. This means he’s afraid,” Goliath grinned. 

But Tora was dead serious, maybe even concerned. He looked Goliath in the eyes and said, “I know your games, Little Bro. I was not against them before, but time is not our friend now. I want it to end.” He made a short pause and continued, “And afterward, I want out.”

Goliath raised an eyebrow. Well, that was a surprise. He knew Tora didn’t enjoy this kind of life, but wanting out of the clan was something Goliath had not anticipated. He wondered what might have suddenly influenced him.

“Out? You know there is only one way out, don’t you? It’s either him or you. Last time I checked, your fucking conscience prevented you from killing Vincent. Are you not friends with Quinceton anymore? Finally got tired of his pretentious ass?”

“Leave Quincey out of this,” Tora said. “Nothing’s changed. I won’t kill Vincent, death is too merciful for that son of a bitch. But he will have to pay, as we agreed.”

Tora was at his third cigarette.

_By Gods, the man is a walking chimney! I’ll have to open the windows soon, the air is becoming unbearable. What is he so stressed about? Everything is going according to plan, except this minor setback with those Balthuman men..._

Tora continued, “There has to be another way to leave the clan. Your boys are power-hungry, aren’t they? They made quite a ruckus on Ares Street a few nights ago. Ruthless cunts, attacked some of our own. Boss was furious. Hell, as far as I’m concerned, ya can have the whole thing. The clubs, the money, take over the Balthuman business or dismember it piece by piece, I don’t care. I need to put this to rest and get out.”

 _“I need.” Interesting choice of words,_ Goliath thought. There was something decisive in his voice. Finish this and then what? Did he have something else to look forward to? A new clan? A different life? The urgency of the request, not much time left…. _Big Bro has something to lose. What or… who could it be?_

Goliath watched the impassive face of his friend. Not a single twitch. The training Tora received at the hands of Vincent paid off. He often wondered if things would have been different if he had run from the orphanage with Tora that day. If Vincent would have picked him up from the streets too, just like he did with his friend. Unlike Tora, he would not have disobeyed the master, he would not have fought the training. He would have embraced it. He would have gladly received the education, the warm roof over his head, the food, and later on the money that came with his responsibilities. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done if Vincent would have placed his trust in him. He would have climbed the ranks and would have been the youngest first lieutenant of the Balthuman Organization, the right hand of Vincent instead of that old scumbag Martin. 

But he did not have such luck. Tora, however, did not see it that way. 

“So do ya have it?” Tora interrupted his thoughts. “The notebook? Alice gave me a page from it, is that all?” 

Goliath laughed. “Of course I have it. Why? Do people believe I’m dead? And that evidence is just lying around ready to be taken? That I could have been so reckless with my hard work?” 

“I knew ya were a slick little devil,” Tora replied. “And yes, people believe you’re dead. Not the best strategy to bring down Vincent, if ya ask me.”

“This is why I have you, Big Brother. Assuming I can trust you.”

Trust. Such a fragile little thing. He knew he could trust Tora, he always did. Tora was his only friend in that godforsaken place. Even from an early age, he was guided by some kind of moral compass. He behaved as if royal blood ran through his veins, proud and wild, with a strong sense of justice, not taking any bullshit from anyone. He was the only one who fought for him and who protected him from getting hurt. As much as a child could protect anyone. 

After Tora ran, things got ugly. Goliath’s skin prickled at the memory. He had no remorse for doing what he did to survive. Those bastards got what they deserved and more. But he was an outcast after that. He could not go back and was forced to live on the streets. The constant hunger, the fights with the older boys, the cold nights in hiding, the bloody dreams, and the perpetual terror of being caught, beaten, raped, forced, sold… those years had been the darkest ones. 

He envied his friend who got out, who got taken care of by a wealthy family. How could he have it worse than at the orphanage or as a street rat like him? 

Only when they found each other again in Joe's home, a few years later, Goliath had realized how wrong he was. There was always room for worse. He barely recognized the tall teenager with a deadly stare, a brooding mood, and a hollow voice. He had been already tagged like a dog, sworn into the clan. He was one of them now. But what was more frightening was the change he saw in him. Tora had been broken. 

Goliath learned that his friend had experienced his own kind of terror. They were barely fifteen years old and Tora had seen people die. His hands were stained with their blood, much like his own. What Goliath thought to be good fortune, to Tora was just another cage, another monster to fight against. And fought he had.

Every time he rebelled, he would disappear for a while. He would show up a few days later, sporting a new bruise, another broken rib, or jaw, or arm. Alice and Joe dealt with those, patched him up, and sent him to doctors. They tried their best. Not even Joe, with his connection to the police, could get Tora out of the hands of his vengeful boss. 

Poor Joe… He did not deserve to die. If he had lived, maybe Goliath and Tora would be in a different place now. If he had lived, maybe they would have been better men, maybe they would have learned from him how to leave the past and bloodshed behind. They would not have shared an oath. They would not stand now face to face, in Joe’s old cabin, measuring their words, weighing their trust in each other, bound by revenge, and guilt and grief. 

Tora rose to his feet, glowering. “Trust me? I’m here, ain’t I? What more proof do ya need? Your secrets aren’t the only ones I keep, Little Bro.” 

He took out a piece of paper from his pocket and put it on the table between them. It was the one Alice had given him. ”What do ya want me to do about this?” 

Goliath did not bother to look at it. “These are small fish. If these people fall, they’ll not do much damage to Vincent. I only gave it to Alice to convince you to come here. I needed to discuss this face to face with you. But these…” He got up and pulled a black notebook from a backpack resting against his bed. He opened it up on the table, pointing at a few names written in red. 

“These are the people we are after. I’m sure you’ll recognize some of them, thanks for the tips by the way; I would’ve never guessed what important role those had into the Balthuman Organisation if you wouldn’t have pointed them out to me,” he said and sat down again. 

“Anyways, I’ve gathered enough evidence on them, and on others non-clan. All are in close ties with Vincent. If we bring them down, we cripple the motherfucker. I want him ruined, trashed, the laughing stock of his people. I want him to lose the trust and respect of the other clan members. I want him to know defeat. You know he’ll go crazy and make a wrong move. And my boys will wait for it. They will take it from there. Balthuman _will_ fall.”

“And our promise will be honored,” Tora said firmly. 

“And our promise will be honored,” Goliath echoed. “Joe did not die in vain. We’ll make peace with the past, finally. If my clan takes over, you’ll have your most wanted freedom, Big Brother. I owe you that much.”

Tora nodded silently. There was something about him, Goliath could not really put his finger on it. He sensed it the whole time they talked. He had a knack for these things, always considered it a blessing from the Goddess. Wouldn’t have become a gambling legend if he didn’t know how to read people. 

_What’s your deal, Big Bro? What other secrets do you keep? Well, just in case you’d do something foolish, I‘ll take some precautionary measures,_ Goliath thought and quickly seized the notebook, just when Tora was preparing to take it. 

“Uh-uh. This stays with me, Big Bro,” he said. 

“What the fuck, Goliath?”

“Don’t give me this nasty look, you know why. This is far too precious for me to part from it. Besides, you don’t need it _all_. I’ll text you the names and places where I’ve hidden the evidence for each of the people from the list. Deal with them one by one. The less you know at once, the better. We cannot risk any more little shits like Ronzo to hack into our phones and sell us out.”

Tora’s shoulders hunched, as shadows briefly clouded his eyes. He said gravely, “He pays for it even to this day, ya know? He was just a kid, young and stupid. Made a mistake that haunts him too. He's been in my service ever since.”

“Fine. Then use him if you have to. I’ll be on my way out of this cabin in a few days. When this,” he nodded towards the ankle brace, “comes out. I’ve overstayed Alice’s welcome anyway. Also, the thugs who attacked me… they were sent by someone, no idea who. Just... be careful, Bro. If Vincent catches a whiff of what we’re doing, we’re dead meat. We only have one shot to get this right.”

Tora nodded and prepared to leave. He put a new phone on the table. “Here, I figured your old one is broken or traced by now. My number is already in. Keep in touch.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Come on, I’ll walk you out, the fresh air will do me good.” 

Goliath got up again, leaning on his crutch. Tora stepped in front of him and reached for the door handle. 

“Glad you’re alive,” grunted Tora, his back to him. 

Goliath smiled. His childhood friend was still in there, inside this stony-faced beast of a man, whose actions spoke louder than words. It was not in his nature to express feelings. 

“I’m glad you’re alive as well,” he replied. 

Tora left, leaving the door open. Goliath stepped outside. While they were inside talking, night descended over the woods, enveloping the small cabin in velvety darkness. There was no moon tonight. Instead, the sky above the clearance was dotted with a myriad of stars, a symphony of flickering lights whose pattern held the answers to human fate. Goliath leaned against the porch pillar and watched as Tora disappeared into the inky shadows of the thick forest. He felt tired again. 

_Whoever she is, I hope she’s worth it, Big Bro. Maybe luck has found you at last._


	8. The Storm (I)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 8: The Storm (I)**

It was raining hard over Narin City. The wind was howling against the balcony door, throwing the poor little plant pots around, spattering the glass with heavy drops. The sky swirled, as thick charcoal clouds gathered on the horizon, foretelling a stormy night. Narin River swelled, unsettled, like a living being, a mythical creature made of murky waters, whose breaths were flowing through the waves. In the distance, over the river, the city’s skyscrapers turned on their lights, tiny yellowish dots, barely visible through the sheets of rain that swept over them like a dark angel’s wings. 

It was late afternoon. From behind the balcony window of her small apartment, Poppy looked outside. Waiting. The light was fading fast and soon the city would disappear from view as the storm drew closer. Usually, the rain calmed her, bringing back happy childhood memories with her father, its silvery shadow against the windows reminding her of her mother’s eyes. Even the wind, it sang for her an ancient melody. But not today. Today she was restless. The storm outside mirrored her troubled state. As if something was going to happen, something unbearable, unfathomable and all she could do was wait for the inevitable. This ominous feeling made her shiver. She crossed her arms over her chest, her fingers digging into her soft cardigan. Her eyes lingered over the swaying clumps of trees below, that hid the winding road coming from the city. She hoped to see the familiar headlights, their cat-eye shape casting beams of light through the pounding rain onto the wet road. But there was nothing. 

She looked back to the coffee table, at her silent phone. No flickering tiny light. No messages. She thought briefly of calling him, but the evening was early, he could still show up. Maybe he was held up at work… his dangerous, not-to-be-talked-about work…

When they left Alice’s a week ago, he was unusually quiet. Alice must have said something to him. Poppy could not figure out how bad it was, but Tora was in a hurry to leave after that. He was preoccupied. Although she tried to get him to loosen up, wishing to see him laugh again, her attempts were met with unintelligible grunts. He drove her home, lost in thoughts, and just shut her out. When they reached her apartment building he smiled faintly, articulated a “see ya around” and drove off without any further explanations. They haven’t seen each other or spoken since. 

His sudden change of behavior puzzled her. She replayed their dinner conversation and their hug in her mind. He had shared a rare glimpse into his past with her. Maybe he regretted it? 

_Or maybe it’s something I did? Or said?_

She rubbed her temples, frustrated. There it was again, she slipped back into that old habit of second-guessing herself and her actions, just as she did with Julri. But Tora was not Julri, he didn’t lead her on, he had seemed genuinely interested in hanging out with her, without judgments or expectations. It was liberating. So why was he now so abruptly silent? 

_Ugh, why am I like this? It’s not like we are in a relationship or anything. He doesn’t have to be here every evening… he doesn’t have to come here at all._

_But you want him to,_ a treacherous voice whispered in her mind. 

_That’s beside the point,_ she retorted to herself. _He’s involved in God knows what, he warned me about his life… We should have more sense and keep our distance._

_Except you don’t. You cooked for two today. Just like yesterday. And the day before that. But it’s not the food he kept coming back for and you know it. Your face starts to burn when you see him, your heart threatens to burst, your feet turn to jelly not to mention the heat pooling inside your…_

_Oh my god! Shut up. We don’t go there._

_What are you afraid of?_

_I don’t know. I’m not. We’re nothing more than friends. And it’s nice.. not to be alone every evening. To have somebody to talk to. Even if he doesn’t share much, he listens._

_He shares his time with you. He is concerned about you. He laughs with you. Do you think he laughs easily? With anybody?_

_He might._

_Liar._

Poppy shook her head, silencing that voice. It shouldn’t matter that he didn’t come this evening. It shouldn’t matter that Quincey did not say a word about Tora today at work or that she didn’t dare to ask. The man, who in many aspects was still a mystery to her, did not owe her anything. Their lives were as different as they could be. 

She was not stupid. She knew what the tattoo on Tora’s neck was, she researched the Balthumans and heard the stories whispered about them. But she decided not to press him for the truth, unsure of what implications this would have on their friendship. Instead, she just enjoyed his company, growing accustomed to his presence in her home, taking up half the space of her living room. And so far it seemed he felt the same way, as he continued to show up at her door, join her for dinner and generally be around her, like it was the most natural thing to do. So what if a week passed without hearing from him? It shouldn’t matter.

_But it does matter, Pops. Because you miss him. You’re falling for him and you’re going to get hurt. Again._

She bit her lower lip.

_Maybe I am afraid after all._

Poppy peeled her eyes away from the window and began pacing the apartment in search of something to do to take her mind off him. She gathered the papers scattered on her desk. She went through some lists scribbled on sticky notes, threw out the ones she didn’t need anymore. Brought empty coffee cups to the kitchen, washed them, put everything back in their cupboards. The food she cooked was still hot on the stove, but she wasn’t really hungry. She decided to eat later and pulled out her laptop. She would catch up on old projects. Plus Quincey had given her a new chapter to beta read. She prepared her notebook and gel pens, opened the manuscript, and started taking notes. 

Time passed. Poppy, immersed in her work, hardly noticed that it was getting dark. When she finally got up from her laptop, her back hurt from the hunched posture, and her stomach growled loudly. The wind outside knocked relentlessly against her balcony windows. The storm did not seem to be ending soon. 

_I guess it’s not tonight either. I hope you’re well, Tora. I hope you’re safe._

Hours of work and still that restless feeling inside of her did not go away. It gnawed and pulled at her heart, the feeling she had lost something she was never meant to have. She ate and got ready for bed. As she turned off the lights the picture of him surrounded by long menacing shadows flickered behind her closed eyelids. One last thought crossed her mind before she slid into a dreamless sleep. _Please be safe. Please come back to me._

***

It had been a rough night. Tora was sitting in his car, parked diagonally on two empty spaces, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Rain struck the windshield furiously. He was tired and the hour was late. He didn’t need to look at his phone to know it was past midnight. His jobs usually took longer than that. Vincent wanted retaliation for another brawl with Nine Daggers. Fucking youngsters. What fucked up game did the Nine Daggers play, sending young ones into Balthuman territory? It was like they did it on purpose, to piss off the big bad wolf. They should have known that his boss wouldn’t let even a minor offense slide. That Vincent would send his men to deliver the message of his… displeasure. 

This fucking life. Tora was the messenger. Vincent flaunted him every time he needed to remind people who held the power on Ares Street. Or in Narin City for that matter. Now, these reckless boys had learned their place in the food chain. He did not kill them, of course, those were not his orders this time. But that didn’t make things less bloody. 

He watched his hands on the steering wheel and their actions replayed in slow motion in his mind. Like so many times before, his body moved by its own volition, being the well-trained machine that he was, driven by sharp instinct. He knew where and when to punch and kick, knew when to dodge and when to launch himself at the unfortunate soul who did not stand a chance before him. He had left that building without a scratch on him, but his clothes and shoes bore the marks of the fight, stained with blood. His men had not escaped injury, but at least there were no deaths tonight. 

He had texted Vincent to let him know the job was done and walked outside, through the downpour back to his car. The storm had seized the city and swelled the gutters of that poor neighborhood, as rivulets of dirty water flooded the streets. The rain had washed the blood away from his hands but its metallic smell still clung onto him, filling his nostrils. 

He hated that fucking stench. But what other choice did he have? Vincent had let him play bodyguard for Quincey for too long. Did he really think he would not get called back, to carry out the boss’s vicious orders like the loyal beast they believed him to be? Fuck. He played that part for so long that sometimes he wondered if there was any truth to it. If he had really become a monster, an extension of Vincent. Intimidating people, hurting people, killing people, whatever he was asked to do. He would do it and he was _good_ at it. Had his life ever been his own? And if it were, would he know how to live differently? 

Even now, when all the wheels were set in motion, if by some miracle he would destroy Vincent with Goliath’s help, did it mean he would escape his ghosts? If by some miracle Poppy would have him, would it be fair to her to bring all his nightmares into their relationship? 

Tora closed his eyes and the memory of Poppy shone in his mind, beckoning him. Not seeing her for the past week had been torture. He thought, foolishly, that he could keep her out of knowing this side of him just a bit longer. She had an uncanny ability to see right through him and if they had met after one of his “errands,” she would have been scared of him. He feared she would turn away and that small hope that began to build inside of him would be put out. But going further with Goliath’s plan would take more time and Tora wondered if he would be able to stay away from her that long. 

He was tense, and cold, and wet and craved for a cigarette. He lunged towards the glove compartment in search of a spare pack when his phone beeped. The chill he felt in his bones when he checked the screen had nothing to do with the rain anymore. The motion sensor aimed at Poppy’s balcony had been set off. The next second he was speed dialing Gyu. 

“Ronzo, ya on guard duty now?”

“Hey, Big Bro. Not my shift tonight. Why? Something wrong?”

“Shit. That sensor went on outside Poppy’s‒”

Gyu sensed the alarm in his voice.

“Calm down, boss. It’s a frickin storm outside, maybe the sensor got thrown around. She’s not in danger, we’d have heard something. Isn’t she protected enough as Young Master Quincey’s editor?”

“I have to go, Ronzo.”

 _Shit. This is not gonna happen. Not now._ Tora floored the gas pedal, swearing loudly at the foul weather and the long distance to her building and hoping he will make it in time. The alternative was unthinkable. 

***

He pulled up outside her building complex and got out of the car, aiming for the tree where he had set up the sensor. Gyu had been right. The small device was hanging by a wire, swaying hard in the wind, as branches of that old tree cracked and rustled around it. The ground was littered with fallen leaves and debris brought by the howling wind from the river banks. 

Tora looked up at Poppy's balcony, trying to see if there was anything out of the ordinary, but he could not distinguish much through the heavy rain. The light was out and the door seemed closed shut. 

Dean, the other guard, was inside his booth, the small bluish light from the window meaning he was watching a movie or playing some game on his phone. Slacker. If he was absorbed by his screen, anyone could have walked past him and gotten to Poppy's apartment without alerting him. Tora had to make sure she was alright. 

He got inside the car and pondered for a moment what to do. If it was indeed only the faulty sensor, then he would wake her up. But if it was not, he shouldn’t waste another second thinking about it. 

_Calm down, you're not thinking straight_ , he scolded himself. He whipped out his phone and shot her a text. 

_“You ok?”_

At least he would not give her the fright of her life if he were to barge into her apartment like a wild man. He waited for a second. Two. Three. The lights on her windows went on. He sighed with relief. A moment later, came the text.

_"I'm fine. What's happening?"_

_"Nothing, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."_

_"How did you know I was sleeping? Where are you?"_

_Damn it._

He typed and erased. Typed again… He was in no state to let her see him like this. Before he got the chance to press send, he received another text. 

_"Come on up, I'll unlock the door for you."_

Tora glanced up and saw her waving behind the balcony windows. 

_Fuck. Here goes nothing._

He pulled the car through the double gates into the parking lot. Dean shot him a look through the windows, but, recognizing him, didn’t say a word and got back to his screen. 

Tora wished he could have had the time for that smoke. There was no way she would miss his bloody shirt. There will be questions. And answers she wouldn’t like. He was not ready to end whatever it was they had. He knocked at her door, his heart racing, balled his fists. His whole body tensed as she unlocked and opened the door. 

The sight of her instantly made his night better. Even if it was just for a moment. She was dressed in short pink pajamas, her t-shirt carrying a cutesy print of a bowl of soup with the words _miso sleepy_ printed underneath. Her hair was all tangled and she still bore a pillow mark on her cheek. Her sleepy eyes widened seeing him standing there, water dripping from his hair onto his shirt. He looked down, unable to sustain her gaze. 

“Tora? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” she asked, suddenly fully awake, taking in the bloody splotches on his clothes. 

“No. I’m fine. It’s not… it’s not mine,” he replied through the knot in his throat. 

She did not say anything, just stared at him, and by the look on her face, she understood. He felt his heart sinking. This was it. She’d want nothing more to do with him. He should be grateful she was safe and let her be.

_Just hurry up, sweetheart. Chase me away already. End this._

He decided to pressure her, desperate to leave, to escape this achy feeling he couldn’t name. He shot her a fierce look and asked, his voice low and hoarse, “Afraid of me now?” 

***

 _...of losing you._ Poppy’s thoughts buzzed, questioning everything, tirelessly - the blood, the uneasiness of his voice, the concern in his eyes, the lateness of the hour, the unknown reason he was here - but the loudest of them all was this: _the only thing I’m afraid of is losing you._

“Not in a million years,” she replied. The truth. She could never be scared of him. 

_Yet he still believes I am?_

Something broke inside of her, like a swelled up dam that cracked under the heaviness of its waters. She dragged him inside, closing the door behind him. Then suddenly she hugged him tightly circling his torso with her arms. The stained shirt did not matter, she wanted to assure him that she was his safe place.

He let her, stiff at first, stunned, unmoving as if he didn’t believe it was happening. _It’s like hugging a massive rock_ , Poppy thought, feeling his hard muscles underneath her palms. Her cheeks were burning and she was sure her face would betray her again, so she pressed it against his chest and stayed there a moment longer, in silence. He exhaled slowly and relaxed a little. She sensed him returning to her from wherever his mind went a few seconds ago. Tora leaned towards her, his hands flew over her back, drawing her harder against him, his body transforming into a mold for her softness, a place where she fitted perfectly. 

He kissed the crown of her head and whispered in her hair, “Ya brave little woman.” 

Poppy didn’t feel brave. She felt only the terrible sensation that she was given a second chance, one she did not want to waste anymore. 

“You’re pure magic, Bobby,” he continued, his face still buried in her tangled curls. 

Another shield cracked. She saw him without looking, in a second of clarity, vulnerable and true. The sound of his words reverberated through her, traveling like a breeze along her spine. The emotions from earlier that evening came tumbling down, drowning her. He was here, unharmed, he came to her, responding unknowingly to her silent pleas. She started sobbing uncontrollably. Tora snuck a finger under her chin and tilted her head back, searching her eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, unsettled at the sight of her tears. 

She hid her face into his chest again and blinked rapidly to stop herself from crying. 

"Nothing. Just…I thought… I cannot explain. Earlier tonight I had this feeling. I feared for you, for your life. Like...I don’t know…a premonition. It came out of nowhere and it hurt, I couldn’t shake it off. And now you're here and I know something’s happened, but you’re fine and I'm relieved and… I'm glad you came, but why...why did you come tonight?" 

He gently stroked her hair, his fingers caressing the back of her neck. The gesture, meant to be soothing, prickled her skin and Poppy suddenly realized they had been locked in a hug for some time, and the only things separating them were two pieces of thin rain-soaked clothing. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. Beneath the hard angles of his chest, her ear picked up the pounding of his heart. So loud, so fast. Poppy didn’t have time to think about it, as his reply shattered whatever wall still stood between them.

“I can’t stay away from ya. You’re always on my mind and you’re calling me and I don’t want to fight it anymore. This is so wrong. I’m so bad for ya, Bobby, but I want you still, so fucking much.”

Poppy raised her head, meeting his gaze. His eyes bored into her, burning, needing. She locked a hand around his neck and drew him closer, covering his mouth with hers. She let go of all doubts, at that moment, the turning point of both their lives. All that mattered now was him and her, and their attraction to each other, their unseen bond that kept pulling them towards one another. She moved her lips over his, softly, her tongue probing the seam of his mouth, testing this new intimacy between them. His response weakened her, as he seized her mouth, demanding more, one hand pressing at the back of her skull, while the other held her by the waist. 

She angled her head to kiss him deeper, with a newfound boldness she didn’t know she possessed, sliding her hands into his hair, still damp from the rain, stroking the nape of his neck. 

Her t-shirt rode up exposing a small streak of skin and Tora slipped his hand underneath the fabric, roughly moving up her back. Electrifying. Her nerves caught fire and she moaned into his mouth. It was too much and not enough. She wanted more of him. She wanted to feel him too, unimpeded by their wet clothes, to trace her fingers all over his bare skin, discovering him, but her inexperience kept her in place. She felt heat building up between her legs and she became aware of the bulge in his pants pressing against her belly. Raised on her toes, flush against him, her hands digging into his broad shoulders, she anchored herself to his body. 

Tora stopped to draw breath, only to come crashing down again, trailing kisses on her jaw, sucking and nibbling at her ear lobe, his lips following the arch of her neck down onto her collarbone, inhaling her scent as if wishing it to intoxicate him. 

He reached a hand underneath her ass and raised her up, against him. She entwined her legs around his waist, grinding against his length, wetness pooling in her core. 

Poppy was done waiting, doubting, hesitating. She had wanted him for so long and denied it to herself so stubbornly, burdened by her insecurities, unwilling to think, to imagine that he might desire her as well. Only now, hearing his acceptance, feeling the hotness of his breath on her neck, she succumbed to the will of her body and the longing of her heart. 

“Tora,” she let out through heavy breaths. 

She wriggled in his arms and tugged at his shirt, urging him to take it off. Tora groaned and pulled back, panting. He put her down and cupped her face, locking his golden eyes into hers. 

“Poppy, are ya sure?” He said, his voice strained. “Tell me to stop, tell me to go, because if ya don’t, there’s no way back for me. I don’t have the strength to leave ya.” 

She never felt more sure of anything. At that moment she understood why she could never give herself to any other man before. It wasn’t that she was afraid, or that she wanted to save herself for some perfect guy, some perfect time. She couldn’t get through with it, because she needed the emotional connection, she needed to care for him. She needed to love him first. 

And watching this strong man unraveling before her eyes, she knew. However impossible, however improbable in such a short time, this strange, unguarded feeling she only read about in books, had bound her soul to his. 

She smiled and caressed his hands cradling her face. She turned her head to kiss them, first one, then the other, before getting hold of his wrists and directing his hands towards her waist. She balled her fists into his shirt and drew closer to him, as much as she could without taking her eyes off him. There was no hesitation in her voice as she whispered, so close that her breaths landed on his lips, “Tora, you’re not going anywhere tonight, because I want you _so fucking much._ ”


	9. The Storm (II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 9: The Storm (II)**

“...because I want you so fucking much.” 

There were no more words. No more sounds. No more walls and roof around them, no more rain and blood, no more tears, no more ghosts. At that moment there was only her. Wanting him.

A tinge of pink spread across her face, the boldness of her words reflected in her eyes, her lips apart... So irresistible. How could she look so damn innocent, but hide that untamed fire inside of her so well? He could feel it, he was drawn to it, spellbound by her. He could very well be consumed by it. 

He kissed her then, embracing her so tightly as if wishing to capture her into his body. No breaths between them, he seized her mouth, with every flick of the tongue growing hungrier for the taste of her. He raised her up again, as she encircled him with her legs. The friction of their bodies at that swift motion sent shivers down his spine. He was already hard for her, straining against the confinement of his pants. 

Poppy snaked her arms around his neck, holding onto him, the softness of her breasts rubbing against his chest. Those tantalizing breasts he had wished to knead and suck at since the moment he took that photo. Unbelievable that now he had her in his arms, unbelievable how fast he was falling, drowning in the scent of her. 

Unable to stop kissing her, he kicked off his shoes and carried her over to the bed. He laid her down gently, kneeling into the mattress, coming to rest on his forearms on top of her. Poppy traced her hands over his chest, sliding down on his abs, tugging the shirt upwards. He raised himself to help her and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. 

Her eyes flew open at the intricate designs of his tattoos. She had never seen them in all their glory. Tora revelled in the sense of pride at the awe imprinted on her face. She brushed her palms over his forearms, up towards his shoulders, then down across his chest, caressing each flower and each fish with feathery touches. 

“Ya like ’em?” He asked, flashing an impish smile. 

Poppy’s hands moved up to his neck in the same silken motion, reaching to cradle his face. Her eyes locked into his, she replied, “You’re beautiful.” 

Tora’s pride melted into something else, a feeling of falling, of sinking into nothingness. He felt exposed like never before, under the intensity of her gaze. It had nothing to do with tattoos anymore. She looked at him as if she saw his bare soul. As if she reached into his depths, embracing him. Panic pierced his senses, threatening to swell and burst as he struggled to control it. 

_What have you done to me?_

It lasted only for a second, before she pulled him into another passionate kiss, knotting her fingers into his hair. Tora let go of the fleeting painful sensation, his attention captured by the curves of her body trapped under his, emanating heat. He ached to undress her, to touch her, to see her.

Tora was sure he would get lost in her. He was sure that once the flimsy barrier of her clothes came down, that once he embraced her naked shape, once he moved his hands and mouth all over her body, once he buried himself inside her, he would be hopelessly lost, without any ways of return.

His hand skimmed over her abdomen, raising her t-shirt when he felt her tensing under him. He broke the kiss, and moved to the side, watching her, searching for the cause of her sudden uneasiness. 

“Bobby?”

She bit her lip before speaking, taking in a deep breath. “There’s something… you should know...I think? In case I’m not...good at this. I’m... uhm… I’ve never done this before...” Her voice trailed off, as shame spread on her beautiful face, tinting it in shades of red. 

_No fucking way._

“Are ya telling me,” he fought to keep his voice even, although he did not recognize the coarse sounds that escaped his lips, ”you’re a virgin?”

She frowned at the expression of panic he wasn’t able to conceal and looked away. Tora felt her squirming, trying to move away from him. He recognized the need to run and hide, he felt it himself earlier that night and many more times before that, even if his reasons were different than hers. 

“Is that wrong?” she faltered. 

He understood now her shyness. Why she flared-up at his flirting. Her jabs and punches when uncomfortable. How could he even begin to explain to her why he was afraid? This was foreign to him. This abandonment. This trust. Choosing him. For the first time, she laid defenseless in front of his eyes, for some unknown reason trusting him, disarming him. Her need for tenderness nearly broke him. Tora cradled her to his chest.

“Fuck no, it’s not wrong, Bobby.” 

She nestled into his arms. He wanted to assure her there was nothing to be ashamed of. But how? He raked his fingers through her tousled locks and caressed her cheek, turning her to face him. 

“I don’t think ya have any idea of what you’re doing to me, Bobby,” he breathed. “There’s no way you’d be bad at this. We'll take it slow, as slow as you need it to. Just tell me to stop if it feels uncomfortable, okay?”

Her nervous expression shifted to a determined one. "Okay." 

"Good," he purred, smiling again, revealing the dimples she teased him about more than once. 

He brushed his thumb over her lips, cupping her face. Then he moved closer to her ear, breathing her in, "tell me when to stop, because I'm shameless, Bobby." He trailed open mouth kisses to the crook of her neck, relishing in the soft moans that bloomed on her lips. "And I’m greedy.” His hand found its way onto her back, under her top and skimmed over her bare skin. “I want to touch you.” He moved his palm onto her hip and over her ass, caressing every curve and valley. “To possess you.” His fingers reached down on her leg, slipping under the hem of her shorts, grasping the inside of her thigh. “Until you’ll forget your own name.” 

He ran his fingers back again, savoring the sounds she made, soft breaths, low moans, an intimate melody. With every kiss, every caress, he attuned himself to the humming of her body. And little by little she unwound under his touches. 

“You’re so goddamn beautiful." He took her hand and placed a kiss on her wrist, sucking at the spot where her blood pulsed. "And this," he pointed at the front of her top with the cute soup bowl, "this is so fucking sexy, ya don’t even know it.”

“Hey, don’t pick on my clothes,” Poppy chided him, but her voice was strained, her breathing uneven. 

“Can’t help it. I’m hungry, Bobby.” He rubbed his nose into the printed bowl of soup, then grazed his teeth over the collar, stretching the fabric down to reach the valley of her breasts. 

She laughed. Sweet fucking God, she laughed, wholeheartedly, even through this haze of desire, responding to his half attempt at a joke. Relief washed over him, realizing just now that he had been just as nervous as she was. 

"Oh you think that's funny?" he chuckled and cupped a breast into his hand, kneading the flesh through the thin shirt, grazing his thumb over her nipple. He smiled, seeing it harden under his touch, and placed his mouth where a moment earlier his thumb had been, dampening the cloth with lazy strokes of the tongue. Poppy’s laugh died in her throat, replaced by a faint mewl, as she instinctively arched her back trying to get closer. 

“Ya think it’s funny how I crave for you?” His voice transformed into a low rumble, thick with need. He lifted her up and peeled off her top. Her breasts spilled out, so beautiful, that he felt his cock twitch at the sight. He swallowed hard and hooked an arm around her back, drawing her against him, seeking her warmth.

“Crave?” was all that she managed, before his mouth came crashing down on hers, claiming her, as if he were a starving man. 

He laid her onto her back again, pressing himself between her thighs, her moans humming against his mouth. His hand returned to her breast, perfectly fitted over its fullness, rolling her nipple between his fingers until she arched again and clung to him. She wrapped herself around him, gripping his shoulders and winding her legs around his ass. Fuck that felt good. He ground into her, searching for some kind of relief, the confines of his clothes doing nothing to help him. 

Abandoning her mouth, he slid lower, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake, until his lips closed over her other nipple, teasing it lightly. She gasped and twisted her fingers into his hair, pressing at the back of his skull. He flicked his tongue over the sensitive bud again and again, until he drew from her another moan. That sweet sound. Wanting to hear it once more, he puckered his lips and sucked hard. There it was. She responded so easily, he could get used to this. To worship her body, to hear her cries, and see her come apart under his touch. There could be no sweeter escape. He turned his attention to the other breast, intent on kissing every inch of her.

He caressed her skin, silky smooth and burning hot, all the way down to the waistband of her shorts. Hooking his fingers underneath the fabric, he freed her from the rest of her clothes. “Goddamn perfect”, he murmured, as his hands roamed her rounded shape, over her thighs and over her hips, so close to a new wave of heat emanating from her core.

“Tora,” she whimpered. Plea or demand? His eyes met hers and he felt his control slip away at the sight of her, biting her bottom lip.

“These lips...” he purred. His hand stopped right above her entrance, as he leaned over, an inch away from her blushing face. He slid his fingers into her wet folds at the same time he captured her mouth, plunging his tongue into her sweetness, swallowing a cry of pleasure. “... are mine.” 

She gasped for air and gave in to his touch, all restraint gone, all else forgotten.

“Yours,” she breathed, her chest pushing up against his, the warm fullness of her body, a luscious invitation. 

_So fucking perfect._

He petted her slowly, exploring her, coating his fingers with her juices. Hot wetness pooled inside her. So irresistible. He slipped a finger into her, just slightly, teasing at her entrance until her breathing hitched and wordless moans escaped her lips. Completely entranced by her reactions, he swirled his fingers over her clit, watching her face blossom into ripples of pleasure.

God he wanted her. He dipped his head to kiss her neck, but Poppy took hold of him halfway and crushed his mouth in a possessive kiss. “I want to touch you,” she demanded, before she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, pinching it with her teeth. 

He stopped at the confidence in her voice, surprising and arousing. He wondered briefly at what moment she crossed the line. When did she let go of shyness and fueled that fire he saw in her, claiming him? 

His thoughts scattered as Poppy traced her tongue across his neck, sucking gently at his skin. He released her and turned onto his back, letting her slide across his chest, a dance of milky swells and curves, cascade of flowing auburn curls. Her hands fumbled with his belt and, as she tugged his pants over his hips, a sudden pulse of blood sent his cock bobbing free of its enclosure. Unbearable need. 

_Touch me._

He wasn’t sure if words came out, his jaw was clenched so tight. She moved lower to ease him out of his clothes, letting her hair sweep lightly, in silky waves, across his erection. A strangled sound escaped him, foreign and beseeching.

Propped up, Tora watched her while she touched him softly, reverently, brushing her fingers over the tiger tattoo, moving her palms up his thighs, captivated by the taut muscles, peppering kisses where her hands caressed, as if she too, wanted to map his body by taste and feel. His mouth went dry when she hovered over him, her bouncing breasts just inches from his cock. Her hand closed on his shaft and started to stroke along his length. Rumbles in his chest burst into sharp breaths, his head fell back and teeth clenched giving in to the long-awaited touch. The sensation was maddening, torturous in its delight, and he rocked his hips forward, longing for more, for harder, for faster. She tightened her grip, swirling her thumb around the top and back again, as shivers raced up and down his spine.

He forced himself to look at her, thinking that he should stop this before he lost all control and came right there on her breasts. He met her gaze and the unadulterated adoration he saw there enslaved him. Without any warning, she dipped her head and wrapped her mouth over his cock, drawing it halfway in and releasing it with an audible pop. Snakes of fire snared his senses, the sudden change from the hotness of her mouth to the cool air leaving him breathless. 

“Fucking hell, Bobby. Where'd ya learn that?” he rasped. 

A tiny smile curved her lips, ”Research.”

“C’mere,” he drew her into his arms and covered her mouth in a hungry kiss. “We’ll _research_ that another time, cause I need to be inside ya now.” 

He let go of her just long enough to find a condom under the pile of clothes and roll it over himself. A needed pause, sufficient for his mind to wrap around the vision of her, bare skin and blazing eyes, reaching out to embrace him. His fiery girl. 

Settling himself between her thighs, he swept the flat of his hand over her swollen folds. She released a throaty moan, and Tora, unable to resist, repeated the motion. This time a soft whimper. His resolve shifted, as he suddenly wanted to see her unravel. He wanted to see her come against his hand, to hear the symphony of all her sounds, to find the exact one of her orgasm. He massaged her, teasing her clit with his thumb, swiping his fingers through her folds, each move persistent and possessive. 

Cradling her cheek with one hand, Tora watched her, purposefully, taking in every change of her face, intent on the rhythm of her breaths, on the way she rolled her eyes at the pleasure he was giving her, on the way she bit her lip to stop herself from crying out. Her breathing became more rapid, her need more urgent. She was so close. He continued to rub her clit, applying pressure, increasing the pace. She entwined her legs around the small of his back and drew closer to him until the tip of his cock was nudging her folds. Madness. He wanted to enter her so badly, but he was transfixed, unable to take his eyes from her, lost in waves of ecstasy. He needed to see her come first. 

Then, at the brink of her orgasm, Poppy did something Tora did not predict. She closed her ankles around his back, her heels digging into his ass, and trapped him, pulling him inside her in a swift, powerful motion. His will shattered. He thrust forward, sinking himself into her to the hilt. His vision blurred, his skin caught fire. He felt her walls clenching around him, adrift in her own sea of sensations. She kept him there suspended in a moment of bliss, her head thrown back, her mouth open, gasping for air. It took every ounce of restraint in his foggy brain to force himself to remain still, sheathed inside her slick warmth, giving her time to get used to his size. She was incredibly tight, deliciously wet, the pressure inside of her almost unbearable. Beads of sweat coated his forehead, as he buried his head in her shoulder, his jaw tensed with the need to move, to seek release. 

“Poppy,” he breathed, more like a prayer than a question, afraid he might have hurt her. 

She twined her arms around his back, dug her fingers into his skin, her breath coming out in gasps, hot against his ear. One word was all it took for his undoing. 

“More.” 

“Fuck yes,” he groaned in a sharp exhale. He moved inside her, sliding himself back, only to plunge again, engulfed by the overwhelming sensations radiating between them. 

His thumb had been captured between their bodies, still pressing on her clit. Moving his hand out of her wetness, he spread it firmly onto her ass, raising her just slightly, so that their bodies collided at a new, deeper angle, and keeping her in place, he sunk again into her depths, falling into an unhurried rhythm. 

Did he dare to hope for this? How many times did he dream about it, how many times did he imagine her naked body wrapped around him like vines, the taste of her skin, the heaviness of her breasts into his hands, the curve of her hips rocking against his cock, how many times he stroked himself with the picture of her, crying out her ecstasy, behind his closed eyes? His imagination had nothing on this. 

He could not imagine the feel of their bodies pressed together, slick with sweat, could not imagine the scent of her skin mixed with the one of arousal, nor the sounds she made when he thrust into her, every move more desperate than the other. He could not imagine how his mind had left his body, as the waves of her orgasm clenched around his cock or the intense pleasure he felt while she rode them to completion. He could not imagine he could come so hard inside her, following her over the edge into total surrender.

_My sweet escape._

Anchored in her embrace, his head pressed into her shoulder, panting in hot breaths, Tora waited for the pulsations of his body to subside. She caressed his cheek and tugged wet strands of hair behind his ear, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. Such tenderness. His girl. 

"Tora?" 

“Mhm?” he hummed against the crook of her neck. 

“If you’re still hungry, there’s food in the kitchen.”

A soft laugh burst from his chest, stifled against her skin. “You’re something, Bobby, ya know that?” 

“Something good?”

He kissed her nose and gave a gentle squeeze to her breast. “The best.”

He got up only to go to the bathroom, his body already longing for her warmth. She was almost asleep when he returned and slid under the covers next to her. She stretched an arm over his chest. Possessive. 

“Don’t leave.”

“I wasn’t planning to, Bobby. C’mere.” He turned her around so that her back was pressed into his chest. He snaked an arm around her, coming to rest over her breasts. She curled into herself. His body followed instinctively, forming a shell around her. A shell made of flesh and blood, muscles and sinews, a living armor. He would be that for her. And everything else she needed him to be. 

He pressed a kiss on the back of her neck. “Sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

He doubted he could sleep, he never did next to somebody. His nightmares were his own to keep. But he could hold her, he could rest his head into her neck, breathing her in, he could stretch this night as long as possible for it to become his happiest memory, strong enough to overcome the others, the hurtful ones. 

And with that thought, with her warmth against his chest, and her steady heartbeats against his hand, Tora fell asleep. 

***

Poppy woke up to the sound of raindrops pattering on the window. Had it been raining all night? 

It was much too early. The objects in the room still bore the nightly shadows as faint, greyish daylight crept in through the clouds. The storm subsided and the wind stopped, but the clouds were still pouring their tears over the city. 

The cool air of the room made her shiver, realizing she was naked and only half covered by the heavy blanket. The other half was wrapped around the man that slept profoundly next to her. His back turned to her, the sheets around him crumpled, enveloped by the gray light of the morning. Her eyes swept over his muscular shape, taking in the dark kanji tattoo between his shoulder blades and lingering on the vibrant peonies that adorned his arm and part of his back. She listened to his even breathing and yearned to touch him again. 

Her body slid easily into the valley of the mattress created by his heavy form and clung to him. She skimmed her palm over his forearm, caressing the flowers and leaves all the way up to his shoulder. Her hand floated a moment above his face before she touched his skin, traced a finger along his jaw, and brushed loose strands of hair away from his cheek. No movement, besides a light flutter of his closed eyelids and his steady breath. He was thoroughly inside the dreamworld. She had never seen him looking so peaceful.

She embraced him from behind, enjoying his warmth, the memories of their night together making her face burn again, sending tingles down her stomach. He smelled of musk and amber and Poppy knew this would be from now on a part of her. The memory of him, the memory of her first time forever imprinted on her brain in the form of his scent. 

She felt transformed. It was not the change her body experienced that night, but a metamorphosis of the soul, like an escape from a cocoon she had weaved for years, a place where she hid her true self until it became not so much a home, but a prison. She didn’t know until now how much she needed to break this confinement of her own choosing. She didn’t know that she could feel so free like she was made of air, of foggy breaths, of feathered wings, of streams of light. 

She wished she would have the power to enfold him too in this light of senses, to trace her palms over his body and magically heal whatever wounds he hid inside himself. She wished she could explain to him how easy it is to breathe when you are not alone. When someone sees the way you are, flawed but perfect, angry but scared, strong but weak, and embraces you just the same. She wished she could show him how easy it is to let go if you don’t run and hide inside your own mind. 

But this she could not do. He would have to break his chains on his own, just as she did. She could only be there next to him, holding him as long as he needed her, loving him until he could see the truth by himself. 

She kissed his shoulder, light as a feather, barely brushing his skin. Then she whispered, so low that it sounded more like breathing than words “I love you, Tora.” 


	10. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 10: The Truth**

Tora couldn’t remember the last time he slept so profoundly. Half-conscious, he felt an unfamiliar weight pressing on his left side. Panic rose to his throat for just a few seconds, awakening in him the instinct to attack whatever kept him prisoner. His mind, still caught in the realm of dreams, registered the foreign place beneath him and something heavy blocking his arm from moving. His body tensed, his muscles contracted, and… instead of launching his fist at the unknown enemy, his arm moved by its own volition and embraced the warm shape, gathering Poppy’s body closer to his chest. Fully awake now, he opened his eyes to the light of day washing over the bed, the white cover, and her tangled hair spread over his peony tattoos. 

Memories of their night invaded his senses. If he had been at his place, he would have thought he dreamt the whole thing. But seeing her, practically glued to him, one leg over his thigh, one arm over his chest, her head resting in the crook of his neck, he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. He grinned like a fool at the thought of this tiny woman pinning him down in her sleep. 

Not that he minded. He would have let her pin him down wide awake too. There was something too beautiful in her eyes when she lit up with desire for him. He wanted to see that again. 

So this is how it was to wake up next to somebody. It felt good. Normal. Hell, it felt fantastic. He had wanted to hold her for so long, that now he was reluctant to wake her. He glanced at the window next to the bed. Couldn’t tell if it was morning or noon, as the thick gray clouds still poured sheets of rain over the trees below. Whatever the hour, it didn’t matter much, as today was her day off. He could watch her sleep in his arms a while longer. A strange feeling filled him. Like nothing else mattered in this life, only the peace he found in such a simple thing - embracing her. 

His body, however, had a mind of his own. He felt himself hard as stone underneath the covers. Nothing unusual, but her warm, naked frame draped around him didn’t help at all. He felt the roundness of her breast under his palm, couldn’t refrain from squeezing it lightly, before lowering his hand onto her back. That didn’t help either, as her softness only made him want to continue to touch her. The fulfillment he had experienced as his hands had traced her curves last night was like no other. 

Poppy stirred, unconsciously caressing his broad chest. Her breath tickled his neck. He gently brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers. No reaction. Should he move? He better move, her bare skin was too inviting, glowing like that, only half covered by the duvet. Fighting himself not to start kissing her all over, he remembered how she had pulled him in last night, the most fucking crazy thing she had done, and how he could not resist her. Damn, he had been anything but gentle. Could easily have hurt her with his strength. Horny bastard. 

He turned to her, pulling the duvet over her back, covering her up with all the good intentions of leaving her to rest. But her leg was now trapped between his thighs, his dick pressed into the valley between her hips, and his hand rested on the nape of her neck. She was flush against him, so close he could feel her heartbeats. His own heart started a frantic rhythm as he found himself unwilling to move. It felt so damn good. 

He slipped his hand under the covers, skimming his palm over her soft shape, the small of her back, the curve of her hip, down onto the outside of her thigh. His fingers clasped around her knee, intending to pull her leg off of him. 

“Mhm…”

Poppy’s low moan caught him by surprise. But not as much as her tongue sliding over his neck, in languid kisses, while his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. Pressing her fingers over his sternum, picking up the vibrations from underneath his skin, Poppy raised herself to seal her lips over the sharp line of his jaw. By doing so, she rubbed her whole body against his, sending jolts of electricity through his nerves. 

“Morning,” she said.

She cupped his face, brushing the tip of her index finger to the underside of his ear. Her touch, light as a feather, felt as hot as fire on his skin. He never knew he could be so sensitive, so severely responsive to her. It wasn’t like he never had sex in the past, but this, this power she had, without even knowing, over him was something new. Well, she should have an idea by now. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.” 

Undisturbed, Poppy ran her fingers over his temple, his cheek, then over his full lips, before reaching up to kiss him. She took her time, her kiss a gentle exploration of his mouth, sensual and sweet. Hell, he could get used to this.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. 

It took him a moment to realize what she was asking of him. He smirked, as his hands took hold of her ass, something he wanted to do since he felt her wrapped up over him. Since much longer than that, if he was being honest. 

“Hmm,” she poked her index finger into one of his dimples, “so...obscene. I want to…” She placed a chaste kiss over it, soft as the touch of a butterfly, before doing the same to the other one. Again her display of tenderness pierced through him, leaving him wordless. Nor could he have said anything, since her mouth found his, her tongue licked his lips before colliding with his own in a feverish dance. Her fingers threaded through his hair, rubbing at the base of his neck. “Obscene...and perfect,” she said, catching her breath.

“I’ll give you obscene.” He squeezed her ass, digging his fingers into her flesh, pressing her against his cock. Not nearly enough to give him the release he needed, but damn if it didn't feel incredible. She clung to him, snaking her arm around his torso, her nails scraping his back. His hand traveled on the inside of her thigh, tracing back her smooth skin until it closed on her sex. The wetness dripping from her core made his cock throb with the need to be sheathed inside of her. Thoughts of resisting her completely forgotten, he groaned into her neck.

“Jesus, Bobby, how long have you been up?”

She bit back a small whimper, hiding her face in his shoulder. 

“Since you started touching me.”

For the second time, she managed to surprise him today. A devilish grin unfurled on his lips, as he slid his long fingers through her folds, caressing her in fluid movements. 

“Ya little minx. Want me to touch you, then? Like this?” 

He could tell by the hotness of her skin against his, by the way her body shivered as he traced lazy circles over her clit, that she wanted him, but he needed to hear the words. As if saying them out loud made it truer. Made it real.

“Yes.” Poppy raised her head, meeting his gaze. There it was, a reflection of his own burning need under her heavy eyelids, an invitation from her glistening lips, a plea, and a surrender. Real. His grin vanished, replaced by the storming hunger for the taste of her, for the feel of her, as he crashed his mouth over hers. 

She hummed her pleasure into his mouth when he slipped two fingers inside of her, moving slowly in and out, stretching her effortlessly. Gods, he could have entered her right then, she was so wet and warm, his cock already straining, rubbing against her mound, enveloped in the heat radiating from her pussy, as she pushed herself onto his hand, demanding more. 

But there was something exhilarating in keeping himself in check, holding her tight, the sting of her nails on his back, the fullness of her breasts crushed against his chest, while his hand worked tirelessly, exploring her depths, massaging her clit to the rhythm of her breathing, harder and harder, until the sensations overflowed, her body convulsed and she clamped her mouth over his shoulder, stifling the cry of her climax, fastening herself in his embrace. 

“You’re gonna drive me completely mad,” he said. 

“I’m sorry,” she managed, her face still pressed into his skin. 

“Don’t you dare! I’m fucking loving every moment of it. C’mere,” he said, turning on his back and drawing her against him, straddling her legs over his waist. He propped himself onto the headboard, half resting on the pillows. “I want to watch you.” 

“What? W-why?”

Gods, he could feel the embarrassment creeping in, even if she had just come undone in his arms. Poppy was still pressed against his chest, her hair cascading over them both, in a silky embrace. This won’t do. Tora gathered her locks and twisted them around his wrist, cradling her face, searching for her eyes. She leaned into his touch. She still had no idea how beautiful she was for him, how that glorious rosy color spreading over her cheeks betrayed her desires and made him even harder for her. She had no idea how intoxicating the smell of her skin was, especially now, how he could barely refrain from thrusting into her, taking her fiercely, savagely, inundating his senses with the scent of her arousal...He’ll show her then.

“You,” he brought her closer, crushing her lips in a searing kiss. “You’re the most…” His mouth followed the column of her neck, licking the tender skin all the way down to her collarbone, while his hand traced the outline of her back. “...sweetest...” He burrowed his nose into the valley of her breasts, planting a kiss on that spot, under which her heart was hammering. “The most…” He caressed her breasts with tender touches, grazing his thumbs over her nipples, closing his mouth over each one, flicking his tongue over them, sucking, tasting, his fingers kneading the perfect form of her until her whimpers grew louder, music to his ears, until her flesh glistened in the wake of his mouth, until his own breath came out in straining groans “...frickin beautiful, perfect woman I have ever met.”

Poppy’s eyes grew wider, he could see a spark of trust, a grain of confidence in their depths. Encouraged by it, he continued, “How come ya don’t see it?”

She propped her hands onto his chest, contemplating the vibrant colors of his tattoos. She whispered, “I don’t know, Tora…”

“Look at me.” He took her palm and kissed her fingers, prompting her to lift her head. “Look at what you’re doing to me. Look at us.” With one hand over her hip, he dragged her over his lower abdomen, until she raised herself above his straining cock. He took her hand from his mouth and traced himself with it, her gaze following his movements. He placed it over her pussy, tangling their fingers into her folds, coating them with her essence. “You are so wet for me…” He guided her hand over his cock, letting her stroke along his length, her juices blending with precum, closing his fist over her fingers, guiding her up and down, “...and I’m painfully hard for you. I need you like I need to breathe right now.” 

Fascination and lust, determination and boldness, her face said it all in waves, emotions and thoughts lost to the feel of their bodies, to their inescapable attraction for each other. 

“I want you too, Tora… I need you… inside of me. I am yours.”

“No,” he said, stopping her hand from moving. His own limits began to crumble, he was too close. Before confusion clouded her face, he leaned over the edge of the bed, silently praying to find another condom in his wallet. Thank fuck he did. Not leaving her time to tense again, he kept his eyes locked into hers, while he sheathed himself. “No, Bobby. _I_ am yours.” He placed her hand again over his cock. “And I want you to take me, as you like it.” 

Conceding control never felt this good. Nor did he remember ever offering it as he did just now. But what else did he have to offer her? Of all the things he could give her, not that many, control over his body was the most terrifying and at the same time, the easiest thing to give. He didn’t even think, or plan or even question it. He was a lost man, long before she lowered herself onto him, taking him fully inside of her. He was lost in the beauty of her, ever since he met her, and the more time he had spent around her, the more he had let her see of him, venturing deeper into an unknown intimacy. This need to be one with her was only the final step, the last barricade that came tumbling down at her simple words, of wanting him, at her sweet tenderness that pierced him like hot iron through flesh and bones. Seeing her, rocking over him, focused on her movements, on the sensations traveling through her body, biting that damn delicious lip of hers, there was no way of return after it. No way that this vision of hers wouldn’t light up his dreams from now on. No way that his hands could forget the vibrations of her body, while he grasped her hips, picking up the pace when she grew tired, helping her, guiding her toward completion, hers and his, the long-awaited blissful moment when nothing else mattered. 

“Best goddamn morning I ever had,” he mumbled in her hair, embracing her soft shape resting over him. Out of breath, sweat shining on her skin, heart thundering in her chest, she still found it in herself to reply “Not bad for me either.”

His feisty Bobby had returned. He pinched her cheek. “Ya little…”, but he could not hold back his laughter. She kissed him on the shoulder, giggling, his own joy rubbing off on her. 

“I’ll go clean up and then I’ll make us something to eat. Bacon and eggs sound ok?”

“Whatever ya want, Bobby,” he said watching her stroll to the bathroom. 

Tora closed his eyes, willing his mind to keep these moments, these images of them together, to keep this feeling of absolute peace inside of him as much as he could. 

Minutes later, Poppy came out dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt, her hair knotted in a bun. 

“Wake up, Tiger,” she said slowly. 

“Not asleep,” he mumbled, getting up. 

She handed him a towel. “I’ve left a spare toothbrush for you. Get dressed and meet me in the kitchen?”

“Mhm. Wait,” he said and drew her closer in a soft kiss. He hadn’t missed the way her gaze traveled in a split second over his naked body, nor how she quickly looked away. Yes, he could definitely get used to this. Also, that shower better be cold, or they wouldn’t make it to breakfast at all. 

When Tora stepped out of the bathroom, the rain was still pattering against the balcony windows, showing no signs of stopping soon. A delicious smell was coming from the kitchen. Now that his mind was beginning to clear, he remembered he was indeed hungry. He hadn’t eaten since… before his job from last night. His. Job. Fuck. 

He picked up his clothes from the floor, inspected them closely. The pants, pretty much ok, they were black anyway, but the shirt… He put on his boxer briefs and pants and sat on the edge of the bed, his shirt balled into his fists. Well shit. He couldn’t wear that. The green fabric was sporting blood splotches all over. The brutal reminder of who he was and what he had done, over and over. And the worst of it all? Poppy didn’t know. Fucking blessing and a curse. Sure, she welcomed him, she understood he was involved in some shady business, but just how much of a monster he really was… she had no clue. 

All his joy seeped away. His mind struggled to turn on the cold thinking mode, the one that had gotten him two steps ahead of every possible wrong choice before. But something was broken inside of him, the cold logic did not work anymore. He could not leave her out of his life any longer, could not imagine a life after her. Hell, whatever he would have after her, would be called anything but living. Yet, he could not lead her on. Sometimes the dangers of innocence were greater than the ones of knowing. For a moment he entertained the thought to lay everything on the table for her, to let her see, know, all of him. His heart clenched, as he imagined her disgusted look, the fear in her eyes, the harsh words that would come out of her mouth. He needed a smoke. 

Poppy found him in the same position, moments later, eyebrows knitted together, weighing his options. 

“Tora? Are you ok?” She approached him cautiously, picking up on his sultry disposition. 

His mind and his heart were still battling inside. Undecided, he spoke slowly, for the first time unwilling to predict the outcome. 

“Poppy, are we now… a thing… together? Are ya my girlfriend now?” 

“Well, I don’t know. Don’t you want me to be?”

“Shit, I do. I want you. I’m done pretending I don’t. I said it last night, there’s no way back for me and I meant every word. So yeah, I want you to be my girlfriend…”

“But?”

“But…How well do ya know me? What if you’ll regret it if you…”

“Will you cheat on me?” 

He shot her a startled, outraged look. 

“Fuck no!”

“Will you treat me in any other way than you did until now? With respect and gentleness and honesty?”

Damn, this was going to be harder than he thought. 

“N-no. Honesty…I don’t know. I’ve never been fully honest with you. About my life.” 

He surprised himself, the words were begging to come out. Maybe it was time. 

“I know enough.”

“I don’t think ya do, Bobby. There’s…. Fuck. I’m a damn monster. The fucking Tiger of Ares Street.” He gave a sad, mocking laugh at the last words. “A mistake.”

Poppy came next to him. His eyes were still fixated on that piece of cloth in his clenched hands. She cradled his head, threading her fingers through his hair. Tora found it weirdly soothing. 

“Tora. Look at me. I know you better than you think.” 

She took a deep breath. 

“I know that this,” she ran her fingers over his neck, outlining his dark tattoo, “this is the Balthuman crest. The most feared and respected clan in Narin City. I know it is run by Vincent Balthuman and I know Quincey is his son. I know the bodyguard duty you’re doing for him is just a facade.” 

Tora watched her. How the fuck did she find out that? 

She read the question in his gaze and shrugged.

“I know Quincey’s real name due to the non-disclosure agreement we had to sign. There is only one famous Balthuman family in Narin City after all. I guess GGP was in enough trouble that Gil decided to associate himself with the heir of Vincent Balthuman, even though Quincey assured us he had distanced himself from clan affairs. And you... Gil warned me about you after that night at Chevy’s, the first time he’d seen you. He didn’t know who you were exactly, but he recognized the mark. He told me that this kind of tattoo is reserved for high ranking clan members... Quincey came to the office many times without you, so I just figured… a bodyguard should have been around him all the time, right? When I asked him about you, he just said that you have other duties too and there are harsher clan rules in place for you. Honestly, the legends and rumors about the Balthumans are not really a state secret. I did my research, too. A girl has to protect herself, Tora.”

That goddamn Princess. Couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Tora was at a loss for words. 

“I knew you were smart, Bobby… but still, why?”

“How many times did I let you into my home? How many times did we stay in my living room, talking, how many meals did we share the past month?” 

“All of them… too many.”

“Yes. Almost every day. Why do you think I kept receiving you, again and again, after knowing all of this? Because whatever you do for the clan, and I saw proof of that yesterday,” she nodded toward his shirt, “it’s not you. Not all of you at least. If anything, it’s destroying you. And I get it. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. You keep up with this tough guy act in front of everyone, but here…with me... you’ve let your guard down, Tora. I’ve seen you.”

“Who would have cared to save a stupid girl who climbed a tree for a cat? Or cared if she was going on Ares street alone, or if her apartment was safe? Who would have lent her a car and taught her to drive, so that she didn't have to deal with the pervs on the bus on her long commute to work? You cared… when I was just a stranger.“

Tora groaned. She didn’t make it any easier. But he was too far gone now, she deserved to know. 

“I wanted something from ya.”

“What did you want?”

“A notebook. That day, in Moonbright, I thought you found somebody's notebook by mistake. A dangerous man. Only later I figured out ya didn’t have it.”

She looked unphased. 

“So why didn’t you plain ask me about it?”

“Jesus, Bobby. I didn’t want to involve ya, didn’t want ya to know about clan wars, to put a target on your back…I…”

She smiled. “See? You still wanted to protect… a stranger.” 

Tora stared at her. “How do ya do that?”

“Do what?” 

“See the good in people…”

“I don’t see the good in people. I see the good in you. And that’s only because you’ve let me. I’m not perfect either. I just want to hold on to this… whatever this is… this nice thing that we have now. And I’m willing to fight for it. Because I’ve lost too many nice things already…”

He pulled her into a hug, feeling like he could breathe again. He hadn’t realized how much he needed to face the truth, and how strangely free he could feel after that. 

“It’s not gonna be easy for us, sweetheart. I can’t give you an out in the open relationship, at least not until I get out.”

“I know it’s not. But I’ll take it. What do you mean by getting out?”

“For months now I wanted to leave this bloody life, to leave the clan...but...things are complicated. I can’t do it like any other member. But I owe it to myself...and now to you, to try. I think I might have found a way…”

“Then this is enough. For now. Come on, the food is getting cold.” 

Poppy caressed his cheek one more time, before breaking the embrace. He tossed the stained shirt and reached for her hand. 

“Hmm...you can’t wear that. Hold on, I think I have something for you,” she said. 

She got to the dresser and pulled out a piece of clothing. 

“Bobby, I like you, but there’s no way I’m gonna fit in one of your tops, even with those two big, uh, jackfruit,” he smirked. “…Oi!“

Poppy had just thrown it in his face.

“Shut up, you perv!” she shouted before stomping to the kitchen. 

He laughed softly, she was too cute when she was riled up. But really, did she think he could wear some cutesy...girly…his own jacket? What? Damn, he completely forgot about it. So she kept it? 

Tora put the jacket on, zip it and sweet fucking God, it smelled like her. He got into the kitchen, where she was setting the table, and leaned on the door frame, with the widest grin ever spreading across his face. 

“So how many times did you wear my jacket, Bobby?” The furious blush that bloomed on her cheeks made him want to pinch her or kiss her. Or both. “You’ve been pining for me since that day, huh?” He came next to her and embraced her from behind. She was fuming, so stinkin’ cute. 

“D-don’t flatter yourself! I’ve worn it once, my sweaters were in the laundry…” 

“Sure, whatever ya say, Bobby.” He swept loose strands of hair and planted a soft kiss on her neck. 

“And I was meaning to return it to you, just that I forgot…”

“Bobby?” He whispered just underneath her ear. “You can keep the jacket, I’ll bring it back to you. I’ll even throw in one of my t-shirts as well. Under one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll get to see ya wearing it.”

“W-what?” 

“Yeah, you see…” he spun her around to face him. “I just happen to think that my shirt,” he crossed his arms around her waist. “Is gonna fit perfectly around this sexy body of yours,” his hands traced her back from her neck to her ass, caressing every swell and valley in between. “And I kind of like,” he trailed a few kisses on the column of her neck, “the scent of my girlfriend on me.”

And with that he kissed her again and again, relishing in the sweet warmth that enveloped him. It was gray and it was raining outside, the food was getting cold, but Tora didn’t care. Because in here, in her small apartment, with her body wrapped around his, Tora was breathing in light, feeling for the first time truly, incredibly, impossibly happy. 


	11. The Photographs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 11: The Photographs**

Vincent sat at his desk, swirling a glass of Scotch, the clink of the ice cubes the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. He put his phone down, having just read the last text message, the one he was waiting for all night. 

_ It’s done, _ Tora had texted, sparse with his words as ever. In truth he didn’t need any more than that, knowing that Tora could carry a job to perfection, understanding what was required of him even before Vincent gave the order. The way that boy could read his intentions was scary at times, but immensely useful, which made him one of Vincent’s favorites for dealing with unsavory clan business. 

As much as Tora’s silence was an asset, Vincent could not help but feel he was hitting a brick wall every time he had tried to have a conversation with him. He had trained him well, the little crying boy had turned into a stoic man, one of his greatest works actually. Tora's feral nature was very well contained under those handsome looks of his. But his pride in being the owner of such a powerful dog could not dispel the troublesome sensation that the boy was smarter than he was letting his master know. And a smart dog needed more than fear to be kept under a leash. 

Especially now, since the little clan he had disregarded in the past had grown into a real threat to Balthuman operations on Ares Street and beyond. Nine Daggers. Their numbers were growing, their members were as vicious as they got. Vincent could smell blood. A clan war seemed inevitable at this point. The loyalty of his underlings was going to be put to the test.

A knock at the door interrupted his train of thoughts. 

“Come in.”

Martin entered carrying a slim file folder. He was dressed in a tailored suit, hair combed and tied carefully at his back, black tie, and black polished leather shoes. Despite his well-put-together appearance, the dark circles from under the thin-rimmed glasses betrayed his weariness.

“Good evening, boss. Sorry for the late hour. I know you wanted these as soon as I got them.” 

“Yes, yes, come in, Martin. Take a seat and grab a glass, would you?”

Martin laid the folder on the desk and poured himself a glass of Scotch. He took a long sip of the amber liquid, before easing his massive body into a leather chair in front of Vincent.

Vincent crossed his hands on the lustrous hardwood desk.

“Before we get to this file, tell me first what’s new with Goliath business.”

“No luck, boss. The fucker vanished into thin air. My boys had lost him after the fight, they only found his shoes. I instructed the men to comb the woods where he was last spotted, but the area is huge, covered in a wild thicket. They’ve found a small cabin, but it was deserted.”

“Goddamit Martin!” Vincent felt the rage bubble beneath the surface of his composed behavior. “This is unacceptable. It’s been weeks! That little shit must be caught at all costs. The rumors about his cursed notebook have already reached the streets, how much time do you think it’ll pass until the other clans start searching for it? If they’re not already doing so,  _ and _ if it really exists. I would not put it past Goliath to invent it. The motherfucker always tempted his luck. Nevertheless, I sent Tora on its trail since your boys failed so miserably at their task. You’ve been careless, Martin. I warn you, I will not tolerate any more mistakes. You might be my brother-in-law, but you’re not blood. Your clubs and territories are my property and I shall feel no remorse when I strip them from you one by one.”

“I’m sorry, boss. I’ll get more men to…”

“No. No more men, Martin. Keep this operation a secret until you find Goliath. I don’t want Tora to know you’re after the little fucker. They have…  _ history _ ,” Vincent curled his lip in disgust. “This is the single advantage I’m willing to give you over him. Have your men search again and bring Goliath to me. Alive. I know just the way to get the information we want out of him. And that clan of his, those punks, they need to be taught the lesson of humility. They’ll learn it soon enough when they’ll receive their general’s head in a box.”

Vincent spat the last words and quaffed the remaining whiskey in one gulp.

“Understood, boss.” Martin nodded briefly. 

Feeling his anger subside with the strong drink, Vincent took the folder from his desk and leaned into the chair, browsing through the papers inside. 

“Now, what do we have here? Hmm… Is this Quincey’s editor?” He pulled a few pictures from between the papers. The images were taken outside a cafeteria, where three people were having lunch at one of the tables. A small brunette woman was sitting between Tora and Quincey, engaged in what seemed to be a lively conversation. 

“Yes, boss. Her name is Poppylan Wilkes. She is editor in charge at Giant Goldfish Publishing, a small company which signed your son for a new book a few months ago. The owner, Gil Reid, is having some financial troubles. They’re not affiliated with us yet, but we can extend a helping hand along with some protection if you wish.”

“Not yet, Martin. You know I don’t condone what my son is doing with his life and this little business is not helping his reputation at all. I would like to,” Vincent paused, focused on one of the photographs. In it, Miss Wilkes was being led to a car, following after Quincey. Tora’s hand was brushing the small of her back. But there was something more that had caught his attention. Tora was looking at the woman...smiling? Obviously, the man smiled. Sometime. Just that Vincent did not remember seeing it. There was something in the way Tora hovered over her, more than just a mere bodyguard, there was...intimacy. 

“Martin, I think this lady has piqued the interest of our Tiger. I must say, I am intrigued. These reports on my son’s activities are getting more interesting by the day.” 

He browsed through the photos again. There it was. Tora smoking outside the GGP offices, the same woman talking with him. They were not standing close to each other, but still, there was something, a look in his eyes, the open body language, a tiny smirk…The photo with the lunch, again. The same look. To an untrained eye, it was probably nothing. Just a man having a casual conversation with a coworker. But Vincent had witnessed the transformation of Tora from a scared child into a powerful man. Vincent had spent years assessing his microexpressions, searching for fear, for lies, for pain until the boy learned to tame them and channel his rage into what he was ordered to do. This time, that look he had just seen in the photos was unusual. But what did it mean? 

Vincent grimaced. To hell with it, he thought. He had no interest in the personal lives of his subordinates. Such trivialities were a waste of time, he had pressing matters on hand. Tora could have all the women he wanted, have fun with them, for all he cared. The boy earned that right, he had never missed a target all these years. And with Quincey as well... His loyalty was undisputed. Besides, he should know by now that any form of attachment outside clan hierarchies would mean the end of him. 

He turned his attention to the girl. There was still something about her that was nagging at him. Maybe it was not the nature of her relationship with Tora. Maybe it was her.

“Wilkes, you say? Didn’t we have somebody named Wilkes in our ranks?”

“I don’t remember anyone, boss,” Martin replied, contemplating the glass of Scotch in his hand. “Maybe in the times of your old man?”

“No, I don’t think so, Martin... Where is this lady coming from?”

“According to her ID, she’s from Moonbright. I can look further into it if you wish.”

“Not worth the trouble. She’s just a common civilian by the looks of her.”

“As you say, boss.”

He browsed through the papers again. Financial reports, employee list, published magazines, list of collaborators. Pictures of the owner and of other employees. Vincent looked at their photos and grimaced.

“Tch. Such a hippie bunch. I really thought my son would have better taste than that. He always did have a soft spot for the unfortunate. Took after his mother. No offense, Martin.”

The man shifted in his seat. “None taken, boss. I think he wanted a change after the deal with Morrison went so badly.”

“Ah, yes. Quinceton handled that admirably. I thought he finally lived up to his name. Never been more proud of him. But, instead of reconsidering his choices and coming back home,” Vincent waved the folder, annoyed, “he does this.” 

“We can set this company up for bankruptcy, should be easy enough, given the fact they’re already struggling,” Martin suggested. “But knowing Quincey, this won’t do. He’ll just find another publisher. His fanbase is growing, publishers are lining up to sign him.”

“True. No, Martin. This should be handled with more diplomacy. I will not have my reputation and the family name tarnished by a scandal. What goes on between me and my son is my private business. My rivals would be just thrilled to have something to pick on.” 

Vincent paced the room, stopping in front of the large window overlooking the estate grounds. The guard lights at the gates were on, men were patrolling the estate. Vincent watched his reflection in the glass. His younger self looked back at him, resurfaced from the depths of his mind. His own voice echoed in his ears. 

_ “Have you lost your mind? You received the finest education, the best life you could possibly imagine. You’re the heir of an empire and this is how you repay me? You want to blow it all away?” _

_ “Dad, it’s not like that! I’m not like you. I don’t want to run the clan. I want a normal life, a good life. I want to be a writer!”  _

_ “You what? Writing those disgusting novels is what you call a normal life? Bringing shame upon this family instead of taking your rightful place as my heir, my own flesh and blood? Instead of ruling this city? You are a disgrace! Get out of my sight!” _

_ “Dad, please!” _

_ “GET OUT!” _

_ Shaking with rage, Vincent pushed the liquor cart with all his force toward his son. Shocked by this outburst, Quincey backed away quickly. Tora, who had been sitting on the couch, impassible throughout their whole fight, rose suddenly, assessing in a split second if he should intervene or not. But the cart only wobbled and crashed on the floor, the bottles and glasses shattering a few feet away from Quincey. He threw his father a hurtful look, then turned his back on him and walked away. Vincent took a few steps, breathing heavily and fists clenched, before turning to the window. He saw himself, hair disheveled, deep lines across his forehead, eyes burning. He straightened up, ran his hand through his hair, finger-styling it back into shape. Smoothed his suit jacket and turned around, facing Tora. His voice was steady now, smooth like the untouched surface of a deep lake. Nobody would have guessed that underneath it, the currents were brewing a storm.  _

_ “Go after him, will you? Talk some sense into him. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”  _

_ “It seems he’s made up his mind,” Tora replied, arms crossed over his chest. _

_ “Yes. My boy can be as stubborn as you when he wishes to. Regardless, you are to be his bodyguard from now on. Make sure he stays out of trouble. Continue training him in martial arts, keep on with his workout routine. I’m not going to let my rivals know my own son has turned against me. This is temporary, he’ll come back. This… little argument…doesn’t leave this room. Do you understand?”  _

_ “Of course.” _

_ “Good. Now go. I’ll call when I’ll need you. From now on until Quinceton returns, my son is in your care.” _

_ “Understood.” _

_ As soon as Tora left, Vincent sunk into his chair. Goddamn it! He had been too soft with his son. Why else would Quinceton entertain such ridiculous ideas? Cut ties with the clan? Ha! Quincey could run all he wanted, but in the end, he will always be a Balthuman. Fucking hell, Tora understood that better than anyone and he was not even blood. Vincent could only hope that the time those two boys spent together would benefit Quincey in the long run. That Tora’s fierceness would rub off on his son and he would understand the error of his ways. Very well, then. He would be patient. He would wait.  _

Martin’s voice brought Vincent back from his thoughts.

“I’ll keep an eye on this company for now. And see if any opportunity arises to bring back Quincey into the clan. Also, boss…”

“You do that, Martin. What else?”

Martin tugged at his collar, shifting in his seat. Vincent turned to sit at the desk, watching him squirm. His patience was running thin again. 

“Spit it out, man. What?”

“Boss, another one got arrested. Mobi Suzuki, the politician you were closing that deal with...The deal fell through, he’s in police custody now. Anonymous tip-off, hard evidence against him.”

“Fuck! Why the hell didn’t you start with this? Who’s got his case?”

“Inspector Ciarra Lane.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! Not one of ours, then. Jesus Christ! Call a clan meeting tomorrow, Martin. It’s the second deal that went south this month, it has to be more than a coincidence. Also, I need an update on Inspector Lane, where she goes, whom she meets with, what she had for breakfast this morning, everything! She cannot be indestructible. No one is. I will not let her dig deeper into our affairs. She goes down at all costs, do you get me?”

“Yes, boss. Perfectly.”

“Good. That is all for now.”

“Very well. Goodnight, boss.”

Martin left, closing the door behind him. Vincent poured himself another glass of whiskey. The papers from the report were scattered on his desk. He spread the pictures across the flat surface, took a sip from his glass, and looked at them one more time. His memory was not as strong as it used to be, but he could never forget a face. Something still lingered in the back of his mind, something unreachable...for now. 

“Where do I know you from, Miss Wilkes?”


	12. The Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 12: The Family**

Poppy parked the car on the driveway, under the big linden tree, which her father did not have the heart to chop down. It was an old tree, its branches swayed and crackled dangerously close to the house during the storms, but both Poppy and her dad could not part from the smell of its blooms filling the kitchen through the open windows. In the summers, when the scorching sun became unbearable, Poppy would grab a book and climb the gnarled trunk to the thick foliage. She would lean her back on a sturdy branch, feet dangling in the air, breathing the coolness of its shadows, and she would immerse herself into the story until her mother brought her strawberry lemonade or iced tea.

Those were treasured memories, happy moments when her family was complete, when she felt loved and free and without any care in the world. It was before her mother left, disappearing without a trace or a goodbye note. It was before her father got sick and before her life started to feel like an endless run. She still had no idea what she had been running from. 

She got out of the car and looked at the old tree. For a fleeting second, she saw him, again, leaning against the tree trunk, waiting for her to find the keys to the house. Tora. He looked awkward and out of place like he was somehow not fitting into her little bubble of happiness. He looked just like the last time they were here, the single time actually, when she decided to share everything with him. The only difference was that back then he had been real and now he was just a projection of her tired mind. 

Poppy blinked and the vision of him disappeared. 

When Poppy left Quincey yesterday night, the road back to her apartment seemed like the longest journey she ever made. The mental strain of coping with what she had found out in just a few hours had drained her energy. Add the disturbing moment she thought she heard Tora speaking to her and she was already questioning her own sanity. She wondered if she wished him alive so much that she had imagined hearing his voice. She needed sleep and she needed to think about all of this with a clear head. 

But sleep did not come easily. Her apartment was filled with memories of him. His brown boots were still by the door in the entryway. His shampoo and cologne on the top bathroom shelf. His toothbrush next to hers by the sink. On top of the dresser, there was now a tv screen and a game console next to it. The second drawer of her dresser was filled with his clothes. He hadn’t been joking when he said he’d bring her the jacket back.

Tora ended up living with her most of the time, a rapid evolution of their relationship, that they didn’t even question. It felt natural and right. It was like time itself was pushing them to live intensely, to feel and experience everything they could with one another. So they did. Inside her home, the walls came down and they discovered each other, body and soul, amazed by how well they fitted together against all odds. 

Maybe this is why she felt now incomplete. Maybe this is why she couldn’t let go, she couldn’t give up hope he might be alive somewhere. What if he escaped, what if he managed to run, where would he go? 

After hours of tossing and turning, the longing for him growing stronger as the night dwindled into dawn, Poppy finally fell asleep. Dressed in his shirt, balling its sleeves in her fists, enveloped in his scent, she succumbed to a restless sleep where she found him again. The image of him wandered in and out of her dreams, moments of bliss turning into horrendous nightmares of people burning, of him bloodied and still, of them both being pulled apart by tidal waves. She woke up screaming his name. 

At a loss for ideas and feeling the need to escape the emptiness around her, she got into her car early in the morning and drove to the outskirts of Moonbright, to her childhood home. If there was ever a time she needed her father’s advice, it was now. Their old house, the woods nearby, the trail between the trees, and all the places she had spent time with her father, were places she would find solace and peace. Her father’s spirit would guide her, as he had done many times before, revealing solutions that were inside her all along. And maybe…could it be possible?

She unlocked the front door and entered the house, holding her breath. Once her eyes grew accustomed to the dim light slipping through the curtains, she saw a layer of dust blanketing the floor and the white sheets covering the furniture. All was untouched. Left as they were the last time she had been here. The last time they had been here. She exhaled, disappointed, the little hope that had sprouted inside her withered and gone. What did she think? Was it so unlikely that Tora could have come here? She remembered the day she showed him the house, not so long ago...

_“Come in, Tora! I want to show you around!”_

_“Best we go, Bobby! The heat will catch up with us before we reach the damn cliff!”_

_“Oh, come oonnn! Quit being a grump. Just a few minutes! I'll grab the album and we'll be on our way,” her voice echoed from inside the house._

_Tora entered and took a look around. He smiled at her enthusiasm, while she ran around throwing the white sheets off the couch and off the living room furniture._

_“This is where I used to do my homework because the living room windows provide the best light during the afternoon, and this is where my dad used to sit reading his newspaper, and this is where mom would work on her reports, next to me at this large table, where we also had dinner all three of us… And I want to show you my room, it’s upstairs, I think I still have the first paintings I did in high school tucked away somewhere...what is it?” Poppy stopped, looking at him, standing in the middle of the room, with a sad smile on his face. She came next to him and reached for his hand. “Tora?”_

_“S nothin’. Slow down, Bobby, keep some of this energy for the hike, will ya? Go find your album, I’ll wait here.” He kissed her temple and went to sit on the couch, while she climbed the stairs to her old bedroom. Spotting an ashtray on the living room table, he picked it up and slouched on the couch again. He fumbled for cigarettes in his pocket and lit one up, staring at the ceiling._

_A loud thud and a crack came from above his head, followed by one of Poppy’s curses, “Fudgin’ son of a biscuit!”_

_“Need help?” he shouted to the wooden ceiling._

_“No, I’m fine,” she answered. “Dropped a box. Ah! I found it!”_

_She came down holding a large leather-bound photo album and threw herself next to him on the couch. “Phew! Done.” She watched him stubbing his cig, getting ready to go._

_“Tora…”_

_“Yes, Bobby?”_

_“You know that this album was just an excuse, right?” She said softly, suddenly serious._

_“Got to be more specific than that, Bobby. An excuse for what?”_

_She scooted closer to him, not missing the slight tightening of his jaw. She took his hand, interlacing her fingers through his._

_“I wanted to make a detour to my childhood home because well...partly because I wanted to show you where I grew up, I wanted to share my past with you as I wanted you to… I don’t know, to know me better? Where I came from? But the other reason... You see, after my dad died, I moved in with Grandma, who lives closer to the town. But I was so happy in this house and I remember so fondly my mom and dad and the time we had spent together, that… we could not sell it. Granny always thought that I might come back to live in Moonbright or who knows, start a family here. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was wrong. So I agreed to preserve the house, to keep it as it is, at least until I would be old enough to carve my own path in life and decide by myself what I want to do with it.”_

_Tora was not looking at her, but he was listening. She knew by the way he was caressing her wrist with his thumb. Sensing him relax a little, she continued. “The house is pretty secluded and… close to the woods… The town is seven miles away, you might not meet a soul for days here… I guess that what I’m trying to say is… if you’ll ever need a place to crash, or to hide...or…if your plan would put you in the position to run…”_

_Tora interrupted her, pulling her into a bear hug._

_“I don’t need ya to worry about that, Bobby,” he said in a low voice. “It’s not going to fail. And I have my own places people don’t know about. Places they can’t trace back to me or to you… I don’t wanna link ya to this mess...”_

_“Oh, I didn’t think about that...” she said disheartened._

_Tora cradled her face, looking her in the eyes. There it was, the sad smile she had seen earlier. “But thank you, Bobby. For just thinkin’ about it.”_

_Poppy snaked her arms around his neck and kissed him softly. He pulled her into his lap, pressing her to him. The bitter aftertaste of tobacco and smoke almost brought tears to her eyes. It was not the taste itself that wrung her heart, but its meaning. Tora always smoked when he was feeling uncomfortable, when the things he could not say aloud weighed on him. Things like ‘I don't belong here, in your world.’ Things like ‘What the hell are you doing with a guy like me?’._

_Poppy reached out to him in the only way she knew would lessen his worries. And every time she did so, his sadness dissipated, giving way to passion and trust. Together they drowned the unspoken things in kisses and caresses, as if their touches could heal everything, reminding them they had chosen each other. They had never failed._

_“To hell with our trip, I’d rather climb those stairs to your bedroom, Bobby,” he said catching his breath. He brushed his hands over her back, taking hold of her ass, moving her over him. Unable to resist, she leaned into him, pressing soft kisses onto the column of his neck._

_“Not opposed to this couch either,” Tora continued. She could hear the smile in his voice, the tension gone, replaced by desire._

_But then she remembered the spark in his eyes when he had asked her to go on a hike with him and she disentangled from his embrace. “I’d like that, Tiger, but I made you a promise. And I’m curious about this special place of yours…”_

_“I’ve got another special place right here…”_

_“Perv!” she smacked him on the arm, feeling her face reddening. She grabbed the photo album and darted outside._

_“Tease!” He shouted after her, laughing._

Poppy backed away, out of the empty house, his laughter still ringing in her ears. She locked the door again. Instead of going back to her car, she circled the house and approached the edge of the forest. The path she and her father used to take on their long walks was visible through the trees. If she were to follow it, it would lead her to the hiking trail toward the cliff. Tora’s place of solace. And now hers too. She sighed and, without looking back, started walking. 

The smell of the woods felt like home. The sun was up in the sky, but it was powerless in the shadows of the tall pine trees, the fragrant cedars, and reddish maples. Poppy brushed her fingertips on several tree trunks on her way, their bark awakening the distant memories of bruises and scratches on her knees and palms. In the past her dad would help her climb those trees, before joining her up between the branches, telling her stories of dangerous mythical creatures and of the brave princesses who defeated them. 

Every time she had walked this path she had felt the presence of her father guiding her steps, easing the troubles of her heart, allowing her to clear her mind. More often than not she had found the courage in herself to keep on moving through life, to keep on fighting for happiness and love and kindness, even when she was feeling small and invisible and defeated. His spirit gave her strength. After Julri, she had come here a few times, breathing in the air of the woods and slowly allowing herself to heal and feel the taste of freedom. She needed that strength now. 

When she reached the hiking trail, she stopped to draw breath. A fresh onslaught of memories made her weak at the knees, piercing through her like silver bullets. She forced herself to keep moving. With each step she took, the images of the past grew stronger and brighter. Tora beside her, carrying a backpack on his shoulders. Tora flashing his dimples at her, his shirt stuck to his back with sweat. Koi fish moving as if alive along his arm, as he clutched her hand, walking in front of her on the narrow path toward the cliff. 

_“Just a little more. We’ll be right there.”_

_“I’m not tired. You forget I grew up in these woods.”_

_“Sweetheart, you’re not tired ‘cause you’ve been working out with me,” he said, a wide grin splitting his face, “... and other things.”_

_“Tora!”_

_“What? Don’t play shy, Bobby, I’ve seen ya ogling my butt, why else did ya fall behind if you’re not tired?”_

_“Well, I can’t help it, alright? Why are you so frickin hot?”_

_“Was that a compliment, Miss Editor? Straight from those gutter books of yours?”_

_“Oh shut up, you big …!”_

_Tora came to an abrupt stop causing her to bump into him, in her rush to follow his footsteps. Her snarky comeback died in her throat as he circled her waist with one hand, brushing her hair with the other, his amber eyes incandescent._

_“So feisty. Are ya gonna bite me again?” He asked, his voice so low that it sounded more like a growl. “Cause if ya do, I might forget we’re in the middle of the woods and...“ There was nothing soft about that kiss. His mouth came crashing down on hers with the untamed passion of a greedy lover. And if he hadn’t been holding her so tightly pressed against his chest, she would have lost her balance in the same swift moment she lost her breath. Her body responded instantly, meeting his touch with the same urgency, craving for the taste of him, for the scent of him, for his hands, his mouth, his skin against hers, as if all that mattered in the world was “here” and “now”. Much too soon he stopped, panting as if he had just run a marathon, her own breath coming out in gasps, as the woods around them shifted into focus once again._

_"Tease,” she muttered under her breath._

_With a smirk, Tora spun her around, fastening his arms over her own. Poppy registered the thunder of his heartbeat as he embraced her, resting his chin on her shoulder._

_“We’re here,” he said, directing her gaze toward the majestic landscape laid out before them._

_They had reached the end of the hiking trail. The forest line receded, a small clearing and the edge of the cliff just a few steps ahead of them. Down below, at the base of the rocky wall, the Narin river snaked its silvery waves through acres of green, yellow, and reddish hues of other forests. The sea of green foliage joined the pale blue sky in the distance, where snowy spikes belonging to a string of mountains pierced the glittering line of the horizon. At their left there was a wide rock, a remnant of an ancient marble wall, streaked with shades of gray, white and amber, beautiful in its singularity. It looked more as if it grew from the ground, like a living thing, a guardian of these lands, forever frozen and silent._

_"This is breathtaking," she said._

_A gust of wind rustled the trees and made her shiver, even though she was still enveloped in his embrace. Poppy could see now why this place was special to him. Its wilderness contained the same quiet beauty that could turn into a devastating force in a blink of an eye. Just like him. A work of art made by the gods, hiding underneath alluring depths, dangerous and irresistible._

_"I knew you'd like it. Come, sit with me," Tora said, dragging her to a patch of grass near the marble stone. He discarded his backpack and sat down, leaning against the cold rock. Pulled out a bottle of water and offered it to her. Poppy sat next to him. She took a few sips, before giving it back. While he emptied the remaining water, a low rumble in her stomach made her realize she was not only thirsty but hungry too. She rummaged in the backpack for the bento boxes._

_They ate the rice balls with vegetables and meat, which Poppy had thoughtfully prepared early in the morning. Then she took out two bottles of strawberry juice, relieved that they were still cold. It had been a good idea to put them in the freezer overnight. His joy was palpable while he drank his, savoring each gulp with an appreciative groan. Poppy nibbled on a chocolate cookie, watching him, relishing this moment of simple happiness._

_Sometimes it felt unreal. Unreal that they had come so far, that this intimidating handsome man was surprisingly gentle and sweet. Unreal that he wanted to be with her so much and so completely that he let her see the most fragile, the most vulnerable side of him. Unreal how much she was prepared to risk for him. Unreal how much she loved him._

_She didn’t have the courage to say it aloud just yet, thinking he might feel pressured to say it back. Maybe one day, when he would be free. When their future together would not look so much like a trembling mirage. At this thought her heart clenched and she shifted her gaze to the beautiful landscape, shimmering under the blinding light of the sun. Its warmth would soon fade. The summer was almost over. Somehow she sensed that time was rushing them again. As if whatever they had could not be kept and their little bubble would burst, slip through their fingers in the face of the choices they would have to make. What kind of future would they have, if any?_

_“Thanks for the food.” Tora leaned over and brushed his lips, cool and sweet, over hers. “Ya were ogling me again just now,” he murmured, attempting to pull her out of her thoughts._

_“That’s because I love you,” she replied, without thinking._

_He froze. For a second, time stopped too. She bit her lip, but it was too late. His eyes bored into her, astounded, his mouth half-open in shock, so close that she could scent the strawberry aroma on his lips. In the space of a breath, everything changed and suddenly his mouth was on hers, his hands were gathering her to his chest and her heart resumed its beatings, painfully aware of the abandon that flashed across his face._

_“Bobby, I…” he kissed her again and again, unwilling to stop. “I have no fucking clue what I’m feeling. All I know is that... you’re everything to me. I can’t promise you anything, there’s no sure future for me, there’s nothing except now. I haven’t given you anything worthy of love. I have nothing of my own to give. And you still…”_

_Was this what he thought? Was this what he was taught by that horrible man who raised him? To be worthy? Poppy regretted she did not say it sooner._

_She placed her palms over his lips. “Don’t say that. Love is not an exchange, is not some bargain. I love you, for who you are, for how you make me feel, for what I am around you, and because of you. With you I’m free to say and feel what I want, I’m confident, I’m not afraid anymore. You don’t have to give me anything, just… be yourself.”_

_His wavering look twisted her heart in knots. He held her wrists and kissed her fingers. “Say it again?”_

_Poppy smiled. She caressed his cheek, ran her fingers through his hair. “I love you.”_

_He kissed her wrists. “Again?”_

_“I love you.”_

_He kissed her neck, her collarbone. “Again?”_

_His breath was warm on her skin, while he peppered her with kisses, repeating that word until it was no longer a question, but a certainty. “Again… Again… Again…”_

Poppy’s legs trembled as the past vanished again before her eyes. She reached the edge of the cliff. His absence was so heavy on her chest she could hardly breathe. She looked at the river below, at the mountains and the trees, and then closed her eyes, feeling the wind through her hair. Everything was like the last time. Everything except him. She sat on the grass patch next to the marble stone. The breeze grew stronger, the grass enveloped her hand like a caress, and from the spot next to her, where he used to sit, a low voice whispered, _Sweetheart, again_.

This time she didn’t startle. She knew it was her imagination. She wanted him there, in any form she could have him. Keeping her eyes closed, she let herself sink again into the past, into that time when pieces of their stories started to fall into place. 

_“You know,“ she said, while he put the empty containers of their lunch back into his backpack, “my dad used to buy me strawberry juice all the time? I was so hooked on these tarty, little fruits, that I devoured everything that was made out of them.”_

_“I figured as much.” He chuckled. “You were the one who got me hooked on them too.”_

_“How come? I remember you ordering this at Chevy’s long before we got together.”_

_“Ya have no idea, do ya?”_

_“Enlighten me.”_

_“I only remembered yesterday, when ya were telling me about Moonbright and these woods and whatnot. ‘Tis the reason I wanted to come here with ya. We’ve met before.”_

_“What? No way! I’m sure I would’ve remembered you. How? When?”_

_“A while back. I was eighteen at the time. I used to come here with the guys. One of us had a van and we drove around Narin City every now and then. That day we got further into the woods and stopped in the valley, where the road coming from the town splits into this trail and the tourist one. You were alone and ran past us, but ya tripped and fell. I remember I helped ya get up, you’ve scraped your knees and ya were crying. Ya didn’t look me in the eye.”_

_Poppy frowned, as a vague memory started to take shape in her mind._

_“I wanted to thank you, but I was in a hurry and needed to get home. I gave you my juice box. I said…”_

_“You’re very kind,” he completed. “Nobody called me kind before. Ya ran away before I got the chance to ask your name.”_

_Poppy watched her hands, folded in her lap. Thinking. She remembered now. Small tears stung her eyes._

_“Bobby? What’s wrong?”_

_“That was the day my mom left. She used to pick me up from school every day and that time...she didn’t show up. I waited and waited… It was late when I gathered up the courage to go home alone and I was afraid something happened and… when I got home...Dad was desperate, he couldn’t think straight. Granny was there too, but she couldn’t calm him down. I’ve never seen him so out of his mind, agitated, heartbroken… And so frightened. He was terrified, convinced that something happened to mom. He searched for her, for days and weeks, went to the police… but nobody listened. They thought she had left him. Until one day when he just… stopped. I think he finally believed them. He lived only one year after that.”_

_Tora placed a hand around her hip and drew her to his side. He caressed her cheek, wiping her tears away._

_“I’m sorry, Bobby.”_

_“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t remember you, I had so much going on, I…”_

_“It’s okay, sweetheart. I can’t believe I didn’t make this connection earlier either. It all happened so fast and we were young… and… I too had my share of grief…” He swallowed hard and paused as if he pondered upon a decision. “Joe died the same night.”_

_“Alice’s son? Your...family from the izakaya?” Poppy asked._

_“Yes.” Tora let her go and turned his gaze to the trees ahead. “Joe was killed. By people like me. No, scratch that. It’s worse. By my people, my clan. At the order of my fucking boss.” He gritted his teeth._

_“No.” Poppy clasped a hand over her mouth._

_She felt her chest collapse under the weight of his words and the sight of him blinking back tears. They had come a long way. Poppy knew he had been raised by Vincent Balthuman, as Tora had shared with her more and more truths about his life, fueled by her own acceptance and openness toward him. She knew Vincent became his boss and that he was vicious and unstable. Tora told her enough so that she could understand their situation, the necessity to be careful and guarded outside, among strangers. But she never imagined it was worse than that._

_“Tora…I’m so sorry.”_

_She reached for his hand and squeezed it lightly. His gaze was fixed straight ahead on a tree trunk, but he was lost in the past, reliving it. Poppy recognized his need to free himself from that story, so she kept silent, waiting for him to choose his words. When he spoke again, his voice was steady and clear._

_"Not many people know about it. Gyu knows, he got sucked into it. He was a stupid teenager who sold hacked information to whoever paid the most. He hacked into police archives, came across some sensitive reports. When he realized what he'd done, whom he'd sold the info to, and that the police officer involved in that investigation was Joe Sako, he knew they were going to kill Joe. So he called me. Warned me. But I got there too late. I couldn’t save him. I blamed myself for years.”_

_Poppy looked down at their hands. Her palm had disappeared completely into his fist. He was holding it as if it was the only thing that ground him to reality. She felt the knot in her throat tightening._

_“I blamed myself too. I thought it was my fault mom left. That I was too wild, too careless, that I didn’t do well enough in school, or wasn’t driven enough to do something meaningful with my life… I thought it was too hard for dad to raise me alone and this is why he got sick… But it was not your fault, Tora. Same way it wasn’t mine either. There is evil in this world that we cannot fight, no matter how much we’d try. How could you have found out earlier? How could you have predicted this? How could I?”_

_“I know, Bobby. And you’re right. The truth is… if I would’ve saved him, I wouldn’t have lived to tell the tale. Vincent doesn’t take kindly to traitors. I did take down Joe’s assassin and for that, Vincent made me pay… a lot. Spared my life though. The biggest mistake he’s ever made.”_

_“This is why you want to leave the clan?” Poppy asked._

_“Part of it. I hate what I’ve become. I hate what I do, what he orders me. I hate that I have to hide ya because Vincent would use ya against me with the first chance he’d got if he’d find out that I care for ya._

_“I hate that I looked up to Vincent when I was a kid. Didn’t know better. I thought I got lucky, pulled off the streets, given food and shelter. He even called me son. Sent me to school. I thought I had found a family. But that went up in flames pretty soon. When he forced me to join the clan, branded me like property and made me hurt people in his name. He made sure I obeyed, like the fucking beast he raised me to be._

_“Joe... He was my anchor. You know that he and Alice gave me a chance. But it was more than that. They treated me like a human being. He always said I had a choice. Gave me a glimpse of what my life could’ve been if I were stronger, smarter. So I made myself stronger._

_“I was not the only one they took care of. All kinds of misfits passed by their place. A younger boy, from the orphanage I was in, before Vincent… I used to call him little brother. Goliath. He got attached to Joe as well, felt the same rage when he died. So we made a pact, to get revenge. We were idiots. Vincent Balthuman is a fucking spider and he weaves his webs into every corner of this city. What did we think, we could just kill him and get it over with? We wouldn’t have had a chance, not without losing our lives in the process. So we did the smarter thing, we waited. And became spiders ourselves. Collecting info and waiting for the right time, when we could sever his limbs one by one until nothing would be left of him and his poisonous legacy.“_

_“I cannot imagine how hard it must’ve been for you.” Poppy looked up to him, wishing to find the magic in herself to heal his pain. When he responded, shifting his gaze back to her, she saw the determination in his eyes._

_“This is what I’m trying to do now. With Goliath. My reasons have changed, my life has changed and you are part of it. I just wanna be free now. Free to be with you anywhere and everywhere, without being ashamed of who I am, without being afraid for us.”_

_“I want that for you too, Tora. And I’m sorry you lost Joe. I like to think that our families, the people who loved us, are still guarding us, guiding us on our paths, helping us become better versions of ourselves. Maybe Joe is still watching over you.”_

_Surprisingly, Tora smiled. He embraced her, the scent of musk and amber enfolding her like silken waves. His voice was soft, whispered in her hair, as he brushed a hand over it, curling her locks around his fingers._

_“Maybe you’re right, Bobby. If he did, I know what he’d say to me.”_

_“What?”_

_“Same as Alice. That I should do good by ya. And that you are my family now.”_

Poppy opened her eyes. As if he came out of a dream, he was there, sitting next to her. But at the same time, he was not. A see-through shadow of the man she loved. She wished she could touch him. He just looked at her, with a hopeful smile, as if waiting for her to string the broken pieces of the past together again. 

What they had, it was nothing short of a miracle. They found each other in their darkest day and somehow life crossed their paths again and made them truly see each other. Poppy didn’t believe in coincidences. She believed in fate, and miracles, and love. She believed everything was connected. 

But what was the missing link, the missing piece? 

“Tell me where to find you,” she whispered to his shadow. 

But he chose to be silent. What reply could he give, if he was only an illusion caused by exhaustion and grief? The words were not etched in her memories of him. 

She thought of Quincey and his words. _We might not have shared the same blood, but he was family to me more than anyone._ She thought of families, of fake ones, and of true ones, and how they had nothing to do with blood. How Quincey ran from his, only to be pulled back in, falling prey to the machinations of his father. She thought of her own family, which fell apart after her mother left. Why did her mom disappear the same day Joe died? Why did her father tell her those stories, why did he dedicate himself to teaching her self defense? Why was he so panic-stricken when her mother left? Granny was there, would she know? 

Poppy got up and smoothed her pants. The layers of the past did not fit together. One more stop then. Maybe Granny would help her make sense of it. And either way, she needed to say goodbye. Because one way or another, Poppy knew she would have to come face to face with the spider. And much like Tora, she needed to make herself stronger before that. As if approving her thoughts, the image of him nodded and vanished.


	13. The Thief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay, I know I'm very very slow with updates and everybody wants to know if Tora is alive or not. You will find out, I promise. But until then, bear with me, these characters want to tell you their story, so I have to listen to them. It's like they've got a will of their own now and sometimes being in their heads is mentally draining for me. Your support and comments and the fact that you're still reading this after I've put you through so much heartbreak mean to me more than words can say. And apparently, I know words. Check the end notes for Easter eggs. :) 
> 
> A work of fiction based on the webcomic Midnight Poppy Land. All characters belong to the comic's creator Lilydusk. You can check her content also on Patreon at https://patreon.com/lilydusk.

**Chapter 13: The Thief**

“...get your ass to Shanghai.” Vincent seethed.

“The POLICE do not conduct suspect interviews over the fucking INTERNET,” he shouted into his phone, clenching the device so hard that it protested with a low crackle. Fuck. He couldn’t break this one too. Closing his eyes, forcing the rage back into its place, much as taming a wild beast, Vincent continued with a firm, menacing tone. “Deal with this, Shing. I want you sitting in front of this bitch on Monday and I want this whole thing behind us in the next seven days.”

“Understood, Master Balthuman” came the answer from the other end of the line. 

Vincent cut the call. A less than favorable report of the recent financial investigation was the last thing he needed right now. Shing Ma, his Chief Financial Advisor, would deal with it. Vincent trusted the man, one of the few he could trust nowadays. 

He pushed the file with Shing’s report back to Smithy, who was standing by his desk. 

“Will that be all, Master Balthuman?” the Administrative Assistant asked, his arms full of folders and reports. He added the one from Shing on top of his stack. 

Vincent rubbed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Subdued, the rage still simmered in his chest, waiting to flare up at the next problem he would have to tackle. Fucking problems, they seemed to pile up lately with no end in sight. Vincent poured himself another glass of Scotch and added a few ice cubes to it. 

“Give me the police report from Martin and wait outside, Smithy. Wait ten minutes and then send Tora in. You can go after that,” he said before taking a sip. 

“Very well, sir.”

Smithy handed him another folder. He then made a short bow, “Have a good evening, sir.” 

“Mhm,” Vincent waved dismissively to his assistant, not bothering to look up. He was already examining the papers inside the folder, furrowing his brow. Smithy retreated and closed the door behind him. 

Silence fell over Vincent’s office. The hardwood paneled walls blocked the noises of the large manor and its servants, who busied themselves with their daily chores. Behind Vincent, a wall half made of glass offered a view over the neatly trimmed garden, the curved driveway, and the guarded entrance gates. As night descended over the estate grounds, small orbs of light went on, outlining the pathway between the flowerbeds to the marble fountain in the middle of the garden. This was Vincent’s favorite office, conveniently situated at the first story, between the east and west wings of the house. He had a perfect view over who was coming and going, which allowed him to assess his visitors, well before they made it through the doors of the office. 

And when he was not receiving guests, he took pleasure in admiring the beauty of the goddess who poured water from her amphora into the lilies adorned marble pool at her feet. He has always been fascinated by the way a cold block of stone could reveal the human body under the skilled hands of its creator. Much like shedding the weaknesses of the flesh, leaving the powerful soul to shine through. Impressive. This was the reason he collected numerous other statues, spread throughout the rooms of his elegant 18th-century manor. 

Vincent raised his head from between the papers and took another sip of whiskey. He got up and walked across the room, where a low coffee table sat on a burgundy Persian rug, surrounded by three dark brown leather couches. A wide flat tv screen was mounted on the wall opposite the middle couch. It was flanked by two other statues, busts of Roman emperors made from the finest Cararra marble displayed on top of intricately carved columns. The flawless white of the marble contrasted strongly with the dark mahogany walls, the sculpted bookshelves holding leather-bound tomes, and gold painted vases. Vincent had a taste for luxury and he was no stranger to the auction houses of Narin City. 

But what caught every new visitor’s eye was the large oil painting exposed on the side wall. Owned by his family for generations, the painting exuded mystery. It was not the blinding white of the snow-covered battlefield, nor the rivers of blood that tarnished it, nor the fallen bodies of soldiers and horses that drew the attention of Vincent’s guests. It was the tall warrior, the last one standing, with his long dark hair and bloodied sword, holding his enemy’s severed head like a tribute to the God of Death. His identity was lost in the sands of time, as the painter did not capture his face, but Vincent had the artwork dated in ancient Narin times, based on the armor of the warrior and the chemical composition of the oils. 

Vincent allowed himself to take a long look at the painting. In his eyes, that warrior held a power Vincent had craved and fought for, ever since he could remember. Surely that man must have been someone important, someone great, because how else could he be the only one left on a field of thousands? But as much as Vincent’s influence grew over the years, the feeling that it was still not enough lingered like a bad taste, while the greatness of the warrior seemed only to intensify over time. 

Vincent frowned, recalling he too was in the middle of a war, the fate of which was still to be determined. He will not allow the Balthuman name to enter the forgotten shadows of history. He had every intention to be the last one standing, no matter the cost. 

Turning his eyes away from the painting, he picked up the remote control from the coffee table and turned the tv on. Images from a burning building ran on the screen, accompanied by “breaking news” headlines. The broadcaster’s voice filled the room. 

_ “...it is believed this is another gang dispute, as earlier tonight five speeding motorcyclists threw explosive hand grenades into Mr. Kosaka’s house. Our colleague, John, reporting live at the scene." _

_ "Thank you, Sylvia. Following the multiple explosions, the house caught fire, which spread rapidly. By the time the firemen arrived at the location, there was little they could do to save the people trapped inside. It is known that Mr. Kosaka and his family were having dinner before the attack happened. Sadly, there were no survivors." _

_ “Tell us, John, what did the Police say in all of this? Did they have any idea who these attackers might be?” _

_ “Unfortunately, there is not enough evidence to identify the five by name. The images caught on street cameras show only that they were all dressed in black leather suits and had their helmets on. All of them sported on the back of their jackets the 9-pointed star made of daggers, the emblem of a very dangerous gang in Narin City, which has gained terrain at an alarming rate over the past few months. This is perhaps the single element that might offer a lead to the officer assigned to this case, Inspector Ciarra Lane, from the Narin City Criminal Investigation Unit. Over to you, Sylvia.”  _

_ “Thank you, John. What we do know is that Mr. Kosaka was a major shareholder of the Balthuman Group, although rumors about his other businesses tie him to the underground mafia of drug and human trafficking.  _

_ “Coincidence or not, this comes less than a week after one of the businesses overseen by the same group declared bankruptcy. The “Frevel” chain of restaurants closed its gates on Sunday after its CEO was arrested with charges of embezzlement and fraud. His case was handled by the same Inspector Lane, who declared on a number of occasions that the associations of these criminal activities with the Balthuman Group are putting the latter in a very delicate and suspicious situation.  _

_ “The CEO of The Balthuman Group, Mr. Vincent Balthuman, declined our invitation for a statement. _

_ “It is yet to be determined if tonight's incident will offer further evidence to the Narin City Police Department in their fight against gangster organizations…” _

A hard knock at the door. Vincent turned the volume down, leaving the tv on.

"Come in, Tora."

As Vincent expected, the young man, head of the secret Shadow Division, entered without saluting.  _ Arrogant beast _ , Vincent thought. Tora's lack of manners was mostly tolerated on account of his accomplishments, but tonight Vincent was irritated by it. 

"Know your place, boy," Vincent let out through gritted teeth. 

Tora stood by the door, feet apart in his bodyguard black suit, and produced a pack out of his pocket. Lighting himself a cigarette, he grumbled over the first intake of nicotine, "Evening. Called me in for an etiquette lesson or do ya need me to go after Kosaka's killers?" 

“Straight to the point as ever, are you not?” Vincent replied. The attack on Kosaka’s house happened mere hours ago and it had already reached Tora’s ears. Vincent couldn’t help but feel a strange appreciation of the man standing before him. On top of everything that moved, Tora was much needed in this war. Vincent softened his tone. “I’m not going to send you on another wild goose chase. The notebook business was enough. Take a seat, it's been a while since we had a chat."

He retrieved his whiskey glass from his desk and moved to sit on one of the couches. Tora sat on the next one, facing the tv, cigarette still hanging from his lips. He spared no glace at the screen. 

"Why did ya call me then, if you’re not going to retaliate?"

"I didn’t say that, Tora. I don’t give a fuck who those assassins are. All that matters is that they belong to Nine Daggers and sure as hell they were sent by someone higher up the food chain. No. I am going to retaliate. They killed our lieutenant, you will take down two of theirs. Daigo and Naysar. The two brothers who rule their casino businesses. If they want war, they shall have it.” 

“Understood. Anything else?” 

“Yes. Speaking of brothers and since you are so well informed, what do you know about that little shit, Goliath?”

Tora shrugged and puffed on his cig. He watched the smoke swirl away toward the ceiling. “I know jackshit. He pissed off a lot of people with that fake notebook. Ran or got killed, fuck if I know. He might be lying dead in a ditch for all I care. Last time I saw the fucker was last year at that party you went to.”

Vincent drank from his Scotch, watching Tora over the rim of the glass. 

He remembered that time. Back then Goliath was basking in his own fame in the gambling business and Nine Daggers was still a tame little clan, posing no threat to Balthuman operations. Therefore Vincent and a handful of his men were invited, as a sign of respect, at the grand opening of a new casino. He remembered he tried his hand at a few poker games, merely testing the waters. He remembered Goliath’s smirk over a losing hand, saying something about luck being a fickle mistress. 

However, Vincent had been more interested in a possible joint venture with Josun Daigo’s casino chain than in the game he was playing. But Daigo and his Oyabun saw right through his stratagem and ultimately refused to associate their businesses. They knew very well that if they did, the Nine Daggers would have to play by Balthuman rules from then on. So instead of being eaten by the big fish, they fattened up on their own and now threatened to overthrow the empire Vincent had so carefully built. 

“Hm. You see, Tora, I don’t think your old pal is dead,” Vincent stated. “I think he’s hiding and orchestrating these attacks, like the sly little gambler he is. I think he has help inside the Police because that bitch Lane has been on our tail since the arrest of Suzuki. Every blow we received from Law Enforcement was doubled by a violent outburst on the streets, coming from his motherfucking clan. So I am asking you, do you truly believe he is dead? Or do you still keep some attachment from childhood…”

“Attachment’s a fucking weakness. I don’t do weak.” Tora interrupted with a scowl.

Vincent smiled over the remainder of his drink. 

“Good. Then we are on the same page. If you catch wind of him, know that I need him alive. I have plans for him. I think it’s time he experiences your old training ground. Do what you do best, be a shadow. With two lieutenants down, Nine Daggers will have to lure the third out of his hiding place.”

Tora nodded and stubbed the cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. He got up, prepared to leave.

“Heard Quincey’s got a new editor.”

Vincent watched with satisfaction how the tall man stopped dead in his tracks, barely hiding an angry glint in his eyes. Tora was tough to read, but not impossible. Even he could be taken by surprise every now and then. He let that anger slip through the cracks for a split second and Vincent interpreted it to his liking.

“Relax, son,” he chuckled. “I’m not scolding you. I know you’ve got your hands full with my Quinceton. It seems he’s not yet ready to come home. But,” Vincent regained seriousness, “you must know that he could be targeted from now on. More so after you’ll complete your mission. He cannot hide who he is for much longer. So spare no efforts in convincing him to claim his rightful place. If you need more men to guard him…”

“I’ll handle it,” Tora said in a cold, hard voice. 

“Good. I trust you'll handle Miss Wilkes and her boss as well when the time comes."

"No need for that. They're harmless."

One arm draped over the armrest of the couch, the other hand gripping his whiskey glass, Vincent cocked his head watching the standing man before him with a curious expression. Tora lit another cigarette.

"That was not a question, Tora," Vincent said. His words carried a steeled weight. He emptied his glass and got up slowly. Even at his full height, he was a few inches shorter than Tora and needed to slightly tilt his head to watch the man in the eye. For some unknown reason, this unnerved Vincent. 

"They are harmless...for now. Don’t underestimate the power of money, especially over those who were deprived of it. Not when the single heir of the Balthuman Empire is under their influence. I don’t trust anyone and neither should you…no matter how tight that cunt is.” Vincent pressed.

For a fleeting moment, Vincent thought he saw Tora's eyes gleaming red, but when the man picked up the cigarette from his mouth and looked down on him, they were back to their golden color, darkened with the same barely contained anger. A sudden chill shot through Vincent, along with the realization that something had changed in their power balance. 

"Don't. Insult. Me." Tora snarled. He took a long, slow draw from his cigarette before speaking again. The chilling moment had passed, the tension gone just as fast as it had appeared. "'Course you're right. Given enough reason, anyone can shift their loyalties. I’ll make sure Quincey is protected.”

Vincent barked out a laugh. "You really are a magnificent beast, aren't you?" He gave Tora a strong pat on the arm. “Fine. I trust no one else in this. Get him to answer my calls. I want him to come to dinner sometime next week. I miss my son."

"Will do."

Tora turned and left without another word. 

Vincent turned off the tv and moved to one of the marble columns. Loyalties. Such precious commodities these days. His instinct was urging him to check something. There was still something not right in the back of his mind. A warning. 

He pressed a button hidden between the carvings of the column. The wall with the painting moved aside revealing a neon room. A glass wall with a biometric locked door separated the secret room from the rest of the office. Vincent pressed his index finger on the pad specially designed for this purpose. The lock clicked and the door opened. 

At first glance, the room was empty, except for a steel table drilled with bolts in the center of the floor. The walls were covered in a mosaic of 2” squared tiles, depicting a cityscape at dusk fading into night. At a closer look, the city was Narin City. The room itself looked like a work of art, illustrating tall skyscrapers that blended with tiny cafeterias and luxurious restaurants, shimmering lights on the streets, people bargaining at night markets, buying street food, bright advertising signs marking the entrance of exclusive nightclubs, even the Narin River glistening in golden hues, until it was lost from view past the distant mountains that surrounded the city. A work of art, destined only for Vincent’s eyes.

He smiled as he entered. Hard to believe something so beautiful was the most dangerous room in this house. He silently thanked his ancestors for giving him the idea of building it. His paranoid, never too careful, ancestors. Like him. Must be in their blood.

He remembered how surprised he was when, at less than ten years old, he was brought by his father into the west wing. All those rooms were reserved for business meetings and clan activities, it was no place for a child. But his father had led him through the hallways on the ground floor, passing so many corners that he couldn’t remember where he came from, until he opened a wall out of nowhere, revealing the entrance to the underground tunnels. A maze of brick tunnels, larger than he could have imagined, spreading underneath the house and the estate grounds, opening up in different places, masked as sewer channels. They were used by the ancient Balthuman lords to escape their enemies in times of war or to get behind the lines of the siege for a surprise attack. When the wars transformed into clashes of power between clans and moved from the battlefields to the city streets, the maze changed its purpose and became a training ground for the select few, who could endure the extreme conditions. The select few who were trained into loyalty above all else, who were destined to become shadows serving the Balthuman lineage. 

This room, however, was designed to hold a different kind of danger. He brushed his fingers over the mosaic, searching. Underneath the paint, some tiles had tiny letters encrusted within. 

_ Now, where was it? _ Vincent thought, focused on the cold indentations beneath his fingertips. S _... S...There!  _

He pressed a tile marked with the letter “S” and the ceramic square popped open. Vincent slipped his fingers inside the small channel, searching for the flash drive. This was Sako’s report, from eight years ago, digitized and put to safety, holding incriminating evidence against his own men. These walls were filled with similar information from all the years Vincent ruled the clan. The power that information held could be anyone’s rise or downfall. And it was all in Vincent’s grasp. 

Inspector Lane's unrelenting pursuit reminded him of Joe Sako and how close he had been to ending the Balthuman legacy. He needed to check if there was a link between the two officers. Vincent was now again in a risky situation, walking the fine wire that kept him from losing everything he had.

Instead of the metal flash drive, his fingers found a piece of paper. With a sinking feeling, he retrieved it. A playing card, folded in two. He knew before unfolding it what it was. _His_ fucking signature. He dared to mock Vincent, to laugh at him from his hideout, like a coward. 

“FUCKING THIEF! GODDAMMIT TO HELL!”

The rage was back, burning like hellfire, gripping every sense in his body. Vincent yelled, but there was nobody to hear him through the soundproofed walls. He grabbed the steel table, in need of thrashing something, of throwing something, of releasing the infernal whips lashing inside him. The bolted table did not move. Knuckles white and breathing heavy, Vincent watched the drawing on the insulting little paper. The swirling black outlines made it look like an unusual dagger, like  _ his _ fucking tattoo, like  _ his _ fucking clan. How fitting. How ironic. That motherfucking Ace of Spades. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are not familiar with saucytuggles' fics, I heartily recommend them here. I found it fun to plug some of hers in this chapter, therefore:  
> \- the dialogue at the beginning between Vincent and Shing is taken from her "Shing Ma's Night Out" story (only from Vincent's POV here)  
> \- the name of the restaurant in the news "Frevel" - is the one used in the story of Vincent and Elise, part 2 of Zaddy's Life - Come to Zaddy  
> \- the depiction of the people in the night markets on the painted tiles - inspired by her story "The Night Market", a spicy one-shot featuring Shing and Erdene as well.  
> Go check them out and all the other ones, you'll not regret it, pinky promise. 
> 
> * Oyabun - The absolute leader of a yakuza clan. The big boss. Literal meaning "foster parent".  
> * Josun Daigo and his brother Naysar do not appear in canon, they are original characters or how some would say "plot devices". I might offer them a face in future chapters.  
> * The oil painting - a mix between two panels from Lily's comic: "Asura's Bride". The warrior is Ulaan, Tora's ancestor, and the irony of it got my imagination into hyperdrive. I hope you liked it.


End file.
